


East of the Sun, West of the Moon

by riseofthefallenone



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Bees, Fluff, M/M, Magic, Minor Character Death, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-06-09 15:15:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6912454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riseofthefallenone/pseuds/riseofthefallenone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There were a lot of things that Dean was expecting when a great White Bear (who talks!) showed up at his door offering his poor family riches in exchange for his company. Going on an adventure to find a castle East of the Sun and West of the Moon to save a family of princes from a pair of witches was <em>not</em> one of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	East of the Sun, West of the Moon

**Author's Note:**

> This is a thank you gift to the wonderful [sans--seraph](http://sans--seraph.tumblr.com/). It's based on the Norwegian Fairy Tale of the same name. I had a blast writing this and I can't thank sans--seraph enough for being so patient with how long it took to get this done!

Dean still has trouble believing this is his life now. He’s been here for three months already and every day feels like he’s walking through a dream. Never in his life did he imagine that he would be living his days in an _enchanted_ castle. Aside from a few choice things that confirm something isn’t exactly kosher here, it looks just like any old castle, aside from being mostly empty. Including Dean, there are only five other residents living here. And he calls them _residents_ because he can’t exactly call them _people_.

Speaking of, the click-swish of claws and a long tail echoes down the corridor. No matter how many times he sees it, Dean is never prepared for when he turns around to find the White Crocodile making its way towards him. He tries his best to hide the way his heart jumps almost painfully in his chest as he steps out of the way and bows. From his understanding, the animals living here are apparently some kind of _royalty_ – though he doesn’t have the first clue how that could be since they’re _animals_. His only evidence, really, is their attitudes.

“Dean.” The crocodile’s massive mouth shows off its many rows of teeth while he talks. “Are you still exploring the castle?”

“Yes sir, Lord Raphael.” He bites out the title, not entirely pleased with having to call animals, no matter how mystical, by a title higher than his own. Granted, he’s from a peasant family and he _has_ no title to speak of. “I feel like I’m never going to be done with all these halls and rooms to explore.” Hopefully that’s true. He has no idea how long he’s supposed to stay here, but exploring is the only real fun that he has – or at least until he discovers the library, if there is one. If he was blessed enough to be a peasant who was taught how to read, then he damn well better put those skills to work, no matter how rusty they are.

Raphael snorts and shakes his head, narrowly missing catching Dean in the ankle with his snout. “Just remember to stay out of _our_ rooms. I don’t care what Castiel says, I’ll have your hide if you enter mine.”

“Duly noted, sir.” Dean bows again as Raphael waddle-swishes away.

He’s gotten used to being checked on by the castle residents throughout the day. His host, Castiel – or Cas, as Dean has taken to calling him, is more or less absent during these hours. Dean has seen his massive white form lumbering out across the castle grounds in the mornings, disappearing into the woods that border part of the land. One day he’s going to have to follow him, just to see where he goes. It’s not fair that Cas only spends time with him in the evenings and sleeps next to him at night, and yet he’s the whole reason that Dean is here in the first place.

His parents wasn’t exactly all for it when the White Bear appeared on their doorstep one day, offering riches in exchange for their prettiest daughter. Cas probably wasn’t expecting to find out that they only have _sons_ , but he didn’t back down when it was Dean, Sam, and Adam who were presented to him. Well, ‘ _presented_ ’ isn’t exactly the right word. It was more like Dean stopping in the middle of the road to town, his brothers in tow, and all three of them stunned as all Hell to see their parents being chatted up by the White Bear of legend.

The legend isn’t very old. It’s more of a rumour actually, and it’s not very detailed. But it’s more or less accurate from what Dean has learned during his time here. Whenever he heard it, the animals were never the same. The one consistency was that they were all white and they could talk. Oh, and that they were always offering riches to anyone to give them their prettiest daughter. From what he’d heard, all the girls were returned to their families unharmed within a few months. So, there’s hope for him yet.

When Cas, the White Bear, picked Dean as the ‘ _prettiest_ ’, Mom had initially refused. Dad wasn’t about to disagree with her, even though Dean knows that Dad was thinking the same as him. They need the money and, for Dean, this would just be like any old job. That’s why it was Dean who made the decision to go to the castle. Their family is always scraping by and Dean has been working as a farm hand for hire for years now. Even with that, they don’t always have enough food on the table for everyone to eat. Sam and Adam are always first priority. His time in the castle is the longest Dean has gone without being hungry. That’s what he wanted for his family. As long as he stays here, they’ll be provided for. Money beyond their wildest dreams to pay for their food, their clothes, the taxes on their meager plot of land, and maybe even schooling for Sam and Adam someday soon.

Dean is in this for the money and he’s not ashamed to say it. Jobs in town don’t always pan out for him and their dad. Mom gets seamstress work where she can, but those jobs are few and far between. _That_ is why Dean is here. Cas wasn’t going to force the matter when Mom refused after Dean was picked. He’s actually a pretty nice guy, for a bear. But that doesn’t excuse his daily absences. Especially since that means that he’s leaving Dean in the care of a bunch of haughty animals. They don’t treat him badly either, but they’ve obviously been living alone here for a while. None of them seem to know how now to be – well, not _exactly_ assholes, but pretty close.

With a sigh, Dean continues his exploration. Today it’s picking his way through the south wing. Which is apparently Michael’s side of the castle. Dean figures this out quick enough when one of the doors is nudged open and a White Stag comes clopping through.

He spares Dean one look before kicking the door shut with a hind leg. “Don’t go into my room.”

“I had no plans on entering it, sir.” Dean tries not to roll his eyes as Michael turns and bounds away. He’s liking heading outdoors. The brothers all seem to enjoy their time outside. Man made walls must hold no joy for them since they’re, you know, _animals_ and all.

What is _with_ these animals and their attachment to their rooms? Dean never had a room of his own. His home was one big room and they would lay out a straw mattress every night for him to share with his brothers. His first night sharing Cas’s bed was the first time in his life that he’s slept in a proper _bed_. He’ll miss it the most when he leaves here – _if_ he leaves. That’s still up in the air. But by the time he gets home, Dad should have saved enough of their money that they can all have their own bed to sleep in for the rest of their lives.

The daylight hours pass quickly while Dean explores the rooms. Most of them are largely empty or acting as storage. He wastes plenty of time by picking through the boxes and bags, mostly out of curiosity than anything else. Everything looks expensive to his eyes and he’s come to the conclusion that the white animal’s fortune lies in the many things they own. For a moment he entertains the idea of the animals taking things to market for appraisal and selling. It would be a menagerie working the stall and it brings a smile of amusement to his face.

“What are you grinning at?”

And yet again, he is being checked in on. Dean turns to find a the White Fox sitting in the doorway, tail twitching back and forth. “How nice of you to check in on me, Lord Gabriel.” He forces a smile. “Will you be sticking around or are you going to take off like your brothers?”

Gabriel huffs and his tail thumps against the ground. “We’re very busy people.”

People. Right. Dean turns away to continue poking through the chest he has open. So far, it just seems to be full of bolts of silk. “Doing what, if I’m allowed to ask?”

“You’re not.” A growl rumbles under the words. “I’ve come to tell you that supper will be ready soon, so you should get yourself to the great hall.”

When Dean looks up again, Gabriel is gone. He has no desire to go to the great hall, even if he _is_ starting to feel a little hungry. But it’s just going to be another evening where he eats alone before retiring to bed. And then, at some point, Cas is going to join him.

Either it’s the rare event that Cas shows up during dinner, quietly asking how his day went, or he shows up after Dean has drawn the curtains and gets into bed. The candles are one of the _actually_ enchanted things Dean has seen here. They always go out _on their own_ right after he gets into bed and just before Cas comes into the room and he just can’t light them no matter how many times he tries. If he tries to leave the curtains open, Cas will lumber into the room and shut them himself, dragging them into place with his teeth.

Once the curtains are closed, they can’t be opened again until the morning. Not that Dean has tried, actually. Cas told him never to try it and Dean never made the attempt. When a giant _bear_ tells you not to do something, you listen to it. He _has_ questioned why it’s always has to be so dark at night, and the only answer he’s gotten is that he’s not allowed to see Cas or any of his brothers at night. Although the follow up question about _that_ just got a stony silence.

Another little irk that Dean tries not to let get under his skin is that Cas _never_ goes to bed at the same time as he does. Part of this deal that gets his family the money they need is that Dean is supposed to sleep in the same bed as Cas every night. The only reason he’s putting up with this is because of the money his family is getting. But if sharing his bed with a magical talking bear wasn’t weird enough, Dean knows without a doubt that the one who lays down next to him at night is actually _not_ a bear.

The room is too dark for him to see anything, but he knows. A bear would make the bed dip way more than what he’s grown accustomed to. A bear wouldn’t be able to lift the blankets and pull it over himself like Cas does when he crawls into bed. A _bear_ doesn’t have _fingers_ to push through Dean’s hair when Cas thinks he’s sleeping and whisper a quiet thank you or wish him goodnight. The voice is still the same, rough but soft all at once, but it’s not coming from a bear. It is, undoubtedly, Cas lying next to him, but he’s _different_. Dean knows this and there’s nothing he can do about it.

If he tries to ask any of the brothers about it, they tell him it has nothing to do with him – if they even bother to answer at all. And Dean hasn’t seen a single servant to ask his questions to. He doesn’t even know where the food comes from. It’s always waiting for him at the table, no matter what time he chooses to go to the great hall. He hasn’t found the kitchen yet, but it’s probably just as empty as the rest of this place.

None of that changes how _lonely_ Dean feels here – or how much he misses his family.

* * *

 

Today Dean finished exploring the castle. It didn’t last nearly as long as he had hoped that it would. He’s found the library, at least. But books just aren’t enough of a substitute for actual company. Dean is _really_ lonely and it’s definitely starting to get to him. Which is maybe what prompts him to speak up about it in the middle of the night.

Dean hasn’t gone to sleep yet. And he’s not even sure Cas is sleeping either. It’s hard to tell when he always has such steady breathing from the moment he gets here to the moment he leaves. Well, hey, he might as well take a shot in the dark here – almost literally. He honestly can’t even see his hand in front of his face in the dark of this room.

“Hey, Cas?”

The bed shifts next to him as Cas rolls over to face him. Oh good, he wasn’t sleeping. “Yes, Dean?”

“Where do you go during the day?” It’s been difficult, but Dean has tried not to pry too much into what Cas does. He figured that if the big guy wandered off every day, it was for a good reason. But Dean is only human and he has his limits.

Cas is quiet for long enough that Dean almost thinks that he fell asleep. And then from the dark comes another soft whisper. “Why do you want to know?”

“Because I’m getting sick of being left here on my own every day.” Dean sighs and rolls onto his side to face Cas too, even if he can’t see him. “Your brothers avoid me just as much as you do. And I _swear_ that Lucifer does that fucking scream just to mess with me.”

“That’s very likely.” There’s a quiet huff that almost sounds like a laugh and it catches Dean by surprise. Did Cas _really_ just do that? “I never knew a peacock sounded like that until we –” He stops himself. “Yes, he likely does. He’s done it to surprise all of us every so often. It keeps us on our toes.”

Dean rolls his eyes. He could really do without that, to be honest. “You don’t say.”

Silence falls again. It’s painfully obvious that Cas hasn’t answered his question yet, so Dean picks up the slack. “I can’t keep being _alone_ here, Cas. I’m not – I don’t like it. I need to be around people.”

“I’m sorry.” To his credit, Cas really does sound apologetic. “I never intended for you to feel like that. I thought –” He shifts and his voice gets a little muffled. Dean imagines that he’s turning his face into the pillow, like he’s embarrassed. “I thought that you would prefer my absence, if only because I’m the reason you’re here.”

“My _family_ is the reason I’m here.” Dean winces when he tells him. It’s not like he’s trying to hurt Cas’s feelings or anything, but there’s no hiding the fact that he’s doing this for his Mom and Dad, for Sam and Adam too. “And – I really miss them.”

Cas is quiet for a really long time after that. Long enough for Dean’s eyes to start getting droopy. It was a long day exploring the last wing of the castle and he’s tired. There’s very little chance that he’s going to get a proper response out of him anyways.

He’s on the verge of falling asleep when fingers ghost through his hair. “Does that mean you want to leave here? Do you want to go back home?” This whisper is quieter than all the others, the kind said on a sigh to the point where Dean can barely hear it.

“Yeah, of course.” There’s no point even stopping to think about that. Dean knows in his heart that home isn’t here and he’d go back to his family if he could. “But that doesn’t mean I’m gonna leave. We have a deal. You keep taking care of them with your riches and shit and I stay here.”

The hand pulls away sharply, like Cas actually thought he was sleeping and that his question would go without an answer. He’s not as quiet when he speaks again. “But you still miss them?”

Dean’s just sleepy enough to think that it’s a good idea to reach out and try to touch Cas too. But all he touches is the blanket as Cas lifts it to put a barrier between them. He sighs and turns onto his back again. “They’re my family. Wouldn’t you miss your brothers if you were separated from them?”

His voice is muffled from under the blanket, but Cas’s one word answer still comes through loud and clear even to Dean’s drowsy. “Yes, I would.”

With another sigh, Dean rolls over again to face away from him. He’s done with this conversation now. Especially since he’s obviously not going to get the answer to his original question. “Goodnight, Cas.”

“Goodnight, Dean.” Cas sighs too and the mattress shifts as he rolls away.

* * *

 

The hand on his shoulder is unbearably heavy, but it gives him a decent shake. In fact, it’s well enough to shake him mostly awake. Cas’s voice in his ear does the rest of the job. “It’s morning, Dean. You should wake up now.”

With a groan, Dean reaches up to push his hand away. When his fingers sink into fur, he opens his eyes properly. The curtains are drawn back and Dean squints against the morning light. This is the first time since he came to the castle months ago that Cas is still here when he wakes up. The muzzle of the white bear is inches from his face and _that_ is a site that Dean never needed to wake up to. He jolts backwards with a shout, scrambling back far enough that he falls off the other side of the bed.

The mattress and frame squeak loudly as Cas crawls onto the bed to look down at him from over the edge. “Are you alright?”

Dean opts to remain on the floor and breathe instead of responding. He clutches his chest until it doesn’t feel like his heart is going to burst through his ribs. That was likely the most effective wake-up call he’s ever had in his life. At this point, he’s not going to need his usual cold bath to wake himself up. But holy God he never needs to have another wake up like _that_. His heart will fail if that continues.

“I’m sorry.” Cas slowly steps off the bed to squat on all fours next to Dean. “I think I might have startled you. I understand my form can be sometimes frightening.”

He sighs and closes his eyes, gathering the will to actually move and get up. “Just a bit.”

“Did you get hurt in your fall?”

“No, I’m fine.” Despite that, Dean still groans when he gets to his feet. It’s not out of pain, though, but rather a part of his morning stretch. He scratches at his belly once finished and looks around the room. “How come you’re still here? You’re usually gone by now.”

Cas hums and shuffles his paws. “This is true. But last night you said you were lonely.” He turns his massive head away, staring at nothing on the wall. “You’re doing me and my brothers a great service by being here. I’ve been rude by not asking you first if you wanted my company.”

Oh. Dean stares at him for a moment before looking away himself, mostly to hide an embarrassed blush. He actually admitted to being _lonely_. And to a talking bear at that. Any words that he might say – that he _should_ say – get stuck in his throat. A thank you, an apology, or questioning what Cas plans to have them do today if he’s going to be sticking around.

Thankfully, Cas picks up the slack. “Would you like to see where I’ve been going?”

“Yes!” He surprises them both with his enthusiasm and Dean looks away again so not to see the amusement in Cas’s eyes. “I – uh – I’ll just get changed and freshen up.”

“Excellent.” Cas bobs his head and turns to shamble out of the room. “I’ll wait for you in the great hall with some breakfast.”

It feels like no time at all between then and when Dean is following Cas into the woods. There’s a well worn path between the trees that Cas takes, just wide enough for his massive, furred form. Dean tags behind him, watching the scenery. He’s so distracted by the many trees and the animals milling about who don’t seem to care about a big ol’ _bear_ walking around that Dean almost walks right into Cas’s butt when he comes to a sudden stop.

Cas shuffles around to face him before Dean can complain. “It’s a longer walk then you might be used to. Would you be more comfortable if you sat on my back? I can carry you the rest of the way.”

It’s a weird suggestion, but Dean actually considers it. How many people get to say that they got to ride the talking White Bear of rumour? He’s pretty sure that none of the girls from the rumours ever said that they did it. But, as tempting as it is, Dean is going to have to decline. If only because it is _really_ weird. Like, so weird that he’s surprised Cas offered it in the first place.

With a laugh, Dean shakes his head and makes a gesture for Cas to keep going. “You’re thinking about dainty little lords and ladies, Cas. I’m from a _peasant_ home. I walk everywhere and anywhere and worked from dawn until dusk for pennies. A little walk in the woods isn’t going to do me in.”

A hum rumbles deep in Cas’s throat and he bobs his head in understanding. They start their walk again and Dean goes back to enjoying actually being _outside_. It’s not that he didn’t explore the castle grounds themselves every once in awhile, especially when he was getting cabin fever, but it still feels good to be out and about. He was made to _live_ , not to be some precious little doll locked up in a castle. Which begs the question – how long does Cas want him to stay here? It’s been almost half a year since he arrived. He might be wrong, but Dean’s pretty sure that’s longer than all the girls from the rumours.

Those thoughts are still bouncing around in his head when a hum starts to fill the air. It starts softly at first, but when Dean starts seeing fields through the trees, it gets louder and louder until finally – The gasp punches out of him purely on reflex. Despite living his life on farms, Dean has _never_ seen a field of flowers that stretches so far. He and Cas come to a stop at the edge of a truly _massive_ field. There are paths of trampled flowers crisscrossing the field, and he has the feeling that Cas is most likely the one who caused them.

But the flowers aren’t the most impressive thing about this place. Cas sits back and gestures with one of his huge paws at the many beehives that are spotted across the field. “These are my friends.”

“This is where you come every day?” Dean raises his voice to be heard over the sound of the countless bees that fill the air, buzzing from leaf to leaf.

Cas bobs his head again, actually ducking it in a way Dean has come to believe means that he’s embarrassed. “I used to watch over the bees with my mother.” He lifts his paws to look at them, wiggling his toes and his pointed claws. “But I can’t take care of them like I used to. It’s been years since I was able to get the honey from the hives.”

“I can get it for you.” The offer is out of Dean’s mouth before he realizes it. Cas’s voice was full of longing and memories and the urge to do something about it was overwhelming. “If you tell me how, then I can do it.”

Cas’s eyes go wider than Dean has ever seen them. They’re the oddest things he’s ever seen, really. Dean has seen many bears in his life. Some dead and close up, some from far away. He’s never seen a _blue eyed_ one before. Well, he’s never seen a white one either. Or one that talked. This whole experience is unlike anything he’s ever gone through before and he still hasn’t decided yet if it’s a good or a bad thing.

“I can’t ask you to do that for me, Dean. What if you get hurt?”

He shrugs and rolls up his sleeves. “It won’t be the first time I’ve been stung by a bee.”

“But then the bees will die.” Cas shakes his head and looks back out over the field. “Thank you for your offer, but I don’t want to lose a single one of Mother’s bees just because of my desires. I’m sure I’ll get to taste the honey again one day.” He steals a glance at Dean and a measure of hope creeps into his voice. “And, if I’m lucky, you’ll be the one to help me do that.”

Dean drops to sit in the grass at the end of the field. That sounded like a loaded statement and he’s not even sure where to start with it. But he could back track a bit. This is a rare opportunity. He actually has a chance to _learn_ about Cas here. If they’re going to be living together for an indeterminate amount of time, then that seems like the logical thing to do, right?

“Was your mom a bear too?” Dean asks quietly, and two seconds later realizes that the question might have been a little insensitive. “Sorry, I don’t mean to –”

“It’s fine. And she wasn’t. Mother was a queen in every sense of the word and she cared for everything in her kingdom, right down to the bees.” Cas stares out at the flowers, a wistful sigh on his breath. “She died when I was young. It’s been a – a very long time.”

Should he ask more? Cas has never been this willing to give up information before. Maybe he could push for just a little more. “How long?”

“Too long.” Cas sighs again and lies down, resting his head on his crossed paws. “Your mother reminded me of her, actually. She was just as protective of me and my brothers as yours is. I was very happy when she didn’t readily sell you to me.”

Dean plucks a blade of grass and fiddles with it. “Yeah, she’s pretty great.” And he probably misses her the most out of his family. “Am I ever going to get to see her again?”

After that question, there’s nothing but the hum of the bees between them. Cas tilts his head to look at Dean from the corner of his eye. He stays like that for a long time and Dean tries to act like he doesn’t notice it. Instead, he pins the blade of grass between his thumbs and brings it to his lips. Cas lifts his head in surprise when Dean blows into it and makes a pitched, trembling buzz of noise that the hum of the bees overwhelms quickly. He can’t make much music on it, but Dean makes as many different sounds with it that he can, making up the song as he goes.

At the end, Cas rests his muzzle on Dean’s knee and closes his eyes. A huff of hot air washes over his breeches as Cas sighs again. “Would you like to visit your family, Dean?”

The grass flutters back to the ground as Dean drops it in surprise. “I can do that?” Is he really going to be allowed to go home? If he had known that a visit was possible, he would have jumped on that ages ago.

“Of course. But it can only be for a few days.” He opens his eyes and pins Dean with a serious stare. “You must be back on the third day. No more than two nights away from my bed. And you have to promise not to speak to your mother on your own. If you see her, you _must_ be in the company of your brothers or your father.”

Well that just doesn’t make any sort of sense to him and Dean frowns at the rule. “How come?”

Cas gives him no answer. He simply closes his eyes and sighs, like he’s too tired to explain. “Promise me this, Dean, and I’ll take you back to your family in the morning. I’ll pick you up again when it’s time to come back here.”

Dean is a naturally curious person. He wants to know the answers to things pretty much _all_ the time. It’s killing him that most of the time he’s not able to get _anything_ out of Cas or his brothers. But is this really such a bad deal? He would finally get to see his family again for the first time in _months_. And he would get to see how they’ve spent the money he’s earned them with this arrangement. Maybe, if they’ve saved enough, he might be able to go home for good and end this.

No, he can’t do that. It’s a sorely tempting idea, but that would mean breaking the deal with Cas. And that’s something Dean doesn’t do. He keeps his word and he promised that he would stay here for as long as Cas wants him to. It’s not like having _more_ money would be bad for his family. Mom is a smart woman. She wouldn’t let anyone, not even Dad, do anything stupid with it. Especially since getting these riches have cost her having Dean around.

“Okay, Cas.” He takes a deep breath and sums up the courage to rest his hand on Cas’s head. “I’d really like that. And I promise I’ll come back with you on the third day.”

“Really?” Cas tilts his head into Dean’s hand, almost rubbing against it. He honestly does sound surprised by the promise. “None of the others ever agreed to that.”

Oh, now they’re getting to the interesting talk. Dean’s been dying to ask all about those girls the rumours and legends started with. He curls his fingers in a scratch, hoping that a good scratch might tempt Cas into spilling more. “How many have you bought before me?”

“Too many.” Cas sighs, pushing his head into the scratch, searching for more. “They never stayed for as long as we needed them to. Either they hated it here or they got homesick and, after letting them go home, they never wanted to come back. You’ve been here the longest.”

“Well, if it helps, I don’t _hate_ it here.” Dean keeps scratching, amused to see how much Cas seems to be enjoying it. “I’ve seen a lot of stuff I never thought I’d get the chance to see. And it’s been interesting living it up like some kind of fancy Lord. It’s not exactly my thing, but it’s been a neat experience. Oh, and I haven’t gotten to pick through the library yet. I bet that’s going to be fun. If you spend some actual time with me now, I bet being here will get to be even better.”

Cas hums and rolls over onto his side, giving Dean access to scratch under his chin. “This is _divine_.”

Dean laughs and brings up his other hand to help with scratching behind Cas’s ears. “Did you even hear anything I just said?”

“Of course I did.” This time, Cas’s hum sounds almost like a purr, even though Dean is fairly certain that not even enchanted talking bears are able to _purr_. “I’ll only leave your side if you ask me to – after you return from your visit, of course.”

Even though Cas’s eyes are closed, Dean still grins down at him, pleased with this change in their plans. Tomorrow he’s going to get to see his family, and after that he’s going to actually have the chance to read some real books! Maybe Mom and Dad will have bought some for Sam and Adam to read and practice their letters. With how much they’ve been paid by now, they should hopefully be already able to afford a tutor for the boys. Heck, when this is over Dean might even be able to get an education himself. Or, at the very least, he’ll be able to afford to learn a proper trade.

It’s barely mid morning, but Dean knows that today is better than every day he’s been here.

* * *

 

“I’ll see you in a few days.” Cas gives Dean’s arm a headbutt that could very nearly be considered _affectionate_. “I hope you have a good time with your family.”

“I will.” He ruffles the fur behind Cas’s ears, which could also be considered an affectionate gesture. But yesterday really endeared Cas to him. For a bear, he’s a pretty good guy and Dean might actually be looking forward to getting to spend _more_ time with him when he goes back to the castle. “Don’t miss me too much, okay? I’ll be back before you know it.”

Cas gives him a long, hard look before he dips his head and turns away. “I certainly hope so.” His massive furred form sways side to side as he starts up the road. Maybe he imagines in, but Dean is pretty sure that he hears Cas murmur one last thing. “We have quite a bit riding on you.”

Now what is _that_ supposed to mean? He nearly calls after Cas to come back and explain himself. But Cas is out of sight before he even realizes it. Not to mention that Dean’s family is waiting for him on the other side of the door. Of course, that’s only if they’re still living here. There’s every possibility that their little shack of a house has been emptied and they’ve moved to a bigger and better one with actual _rooms_ in it. He honestly wouldn’t be surprised if they had.

It’s been half a year since Dean was here last and nothing looks different. With the amount of riches they should have received by now, the least they could have done was fix up the house. So, most likely, that means that they probably moved. Right? Hopefully they left a note to say where they went, or whatever family moved in (if one did) will know where they moved to.

Either way, it can’t hurt to knock and see who’s inside.

The sun has barely left the horizon, but his family has always been early risers. It’s no surprise to him that the door is opened only a moment later. Adam stares up at him, eyes and mouth round with surprise. Dean missed his birthday in his absence and he’s a full eight years old now. Sam should have just turned fifteen.

“Hey, short stuff.” Dean grins down at him. “Did you miss me?”

There’s a shriek from inside, followed by a crash. Dean looks up to see his Mom standing over the remains of a dish. She pays it no mind as she crosses the room to pull Dean into a tight hug, Adam squished between them as he joins in and wraps his arms around Dean’s middle. Now _these_ are something he missed. He doesn’t get hugs at the castle. Cas won’t even cuddle him at night. Which is just – seriously, what’s the point of sharing a bed if you’re not going to _cuddle_?

“You’re home!” Mary gasps, stepping back for Adam to get out of the way this time. She still doesn’t let go of Dean, though. Her hands stay clasped on his shoulders as tears fill her eyes. “Baby, you’re _home_.”

“For a few days.” He can’t keep his smile back as he wraps his arms around her waist and lifts her from her feet in the next hug. Dean buries his face in the blonde curls that spill over her shoulders. Mom smells like _home_ and it’s almost enough to bring tears to his eyes. “I missed you, Mom.”

She’s got tear tracks on her face when he puts her down again. “I missed you too, sweetheart.”

“Mama prayed every day for you to come home.” Adam tugs on the sleeve of Dean’s tunic and tells him in a loud whisper, one that she can obviously hear.

Mom just laughs and shoos him inside. It means that he’s and his mom are the only two out on the front step, but Dean ignores Cas’s rule for now. It’s not like they’re _alone_ alone. Adam is right there in the house, completely within ear shot. If she makes Adam leave to town or something, that’s when Dean will have to follow that completely ridiculous rule. Somehow. He’s not entirely sure _how_ he would go about doing that without raising anyone’s suspicions.

But there are more important things to focus on right now. Such things as Mom’s outfit. “Look at you, mom!”

Dean pulls at the folds of her gown at her hip. It’s definitely a _new_ dress. One she’s never owned before that he’s seen. There are no mended holes or patches she’s had to fix. The rope around her waist and the tassels hanging from it aren’t frayed at all. She looks like the lady of any good family living within the borders of the town. In fact, even Adam is wearing a new tunic and breeches.

He grins at them, happy to see them putting their newfound wealth. “So you _have_ been doing something with the riches, then?”

Mom blushes slightly and does a little spin, showing off her dress. “Well, just some clothes and books so far. Oh, and one other thing.” She grabs him by the hand and drags him around the side of the house where Dean is treated to the sight of stones and lumber sitting in neat piles. “We decided to buy the land and make a farm all our own!”

Adam, never liking to be far from Mom, joins them. He bounces excitedly next to Dean as Mom gushes about their plans. Dad and Sam are in town making arrangements to hire help for building an actual _barn_. The family is planning to live in the barn once it’s done, just until they’ve torn down the shack and built a proper house with actual rooms and beds. And instead of working the land, they’re going to build pastures and raise animals. Mom wants to sell the milk and meat.

“That’s amazing, Mom.” Dean puts an arm around her shoulder, pleased beyond all reason to see her so _happy_. “It’s great to see you guys doing so well. I thought for sure that you were going to move into town or something.”

She huffs and shakes her head. “Town life isn’t for us Winchesters. It’s too busy there. Too much going on. We’re happy out here.” Mom turns to him and cups his face between her hands. “And if we moved there, how would we tell you? You’d come here and this wouldn’t be your home anymore. I want you to have a home to come back to when this nonsense is done with.”

“It’s not nonsense, Mom.” He pulls her hands away, but keeps them cupped between his own. “If I wasn’t doing this, we wouldn’t be able to afford any of these things you’re so excited to do.” Dean smiles and kisses her fingers, hoping to ease her frown. “But you haven’t told me – are you going to hire any tutors to give Sam and Adam educations?”

“Yeah!” Adam bounces and worms his way between them again to get Dean’s attention. “Mama said we’re going to do that when the house is all taken care of!”

Dean grins down at him and ruffles his hair. “And how excited for that are you?”

“He won’t stop talking about it.” Mom laughs and leans down to press a kiss into Adam’s hair. “One of the first things Sam bought were books for the two of them. Though this one –” And she ruffles Adam’s hair too. “He’s not as good with his words yet. But there’s still time to learn.”

This is it. This is the reason that Dean left his family for the last six months, and why he’s going to do it again for as long as Cas says he needs to stay for. His family looks happy, healthy, and _alive_. He can’t wait to see Sam and Dad, and he’ll be happy to spend the today and tomorrow helping them with any work around their land that they need. This makes the last six months completely worthwhile.

“Adam, baby, why don’t you run to town and find your father and Sam?” Mom gives him a gentle little shove in the direction of town. “Tell them to bring back some meat from the butcher and we’ll have a big dinner tonight to celebrate Dean coming home.”

“Mom, you don’t need to do that.” Dean puts a hand on Adam’s shoulder to keep him from going too far. He’s not supposed to be alone with her and Dean doesn’t want to break Cas’s rules on the first damn day – and he hasn’t even been here for a whole hour yet. “They’ll be back soon enough. Let me just hang out with you two for now.”

The look she gives him is one that Dean has known his whole life. It’s the kind of look she gives anyone who messed up something she was planning. He gets the distinct feeling that Mom _wants_ to be alone with him. Normally, he’d comply to his mother’s wishes without a second thought, but – Well, he made a promise to Cas. They made a _deal_. And Cas is an _enchanted_ White Bear. What if he somehow knows that Dean broke the deal and was alone with his mom? He might not be allowed to come back again because of it and that – that would just be the worst.

That being said, Mom is _way_ more stubborn than he is. He manages to safely stay in the company of everyone for the first day and most of the second. But the afternoon is a lost cause. Even though Dad, Sam, and Adam all want to spend some time with Dean while he’s here, Mom still manages to convince all of them that all three of them are required to go to town to get Dean some kind cake so they can party it up for Dean’s last night here.

As soon as they’re out of sight on the road, Mom is shuffling Dean back inside and shutting the door. They only have one window in their shack and candles light the rest of them. Usually those were a sometimes item their family would save for emergencies and anything done in the house would be by the light of the window or a fire from the cooking pit in the middle of the room. That’s been covered over with dirt since Dean’s been gone because they were able to afford a proper iron stove now.

Mom draws their little curtains over the window, still as ragged as they’ve been Dean’s entire life. She takes Dean over to their small table and chairs that Dad built himself with scrap wood he picked up from the forest. “I need to talk to you.”

Dean winces and shifts in the chair. “About what?” Hopefully Cas doesn’t find out about this.

“The White Bear.” She puts her hands over his on the table, giving them a tight squeeze. “You’ve been gone for six months, baby, and I have no idea what he’s been making you do. I don’t even know where he took you. Have you been okay?”

Oh thank God. Is that all she wants to talk about? This can’t possibly be something that Cas would be upset about. Dean relaxes with a sigh and a smile. “Don’t worry, Mom. Everything is fine.” It should be fine if he only tells her about the castle and Cas’s brothers, right?

That honestly seems to be okay. Mom relaxes significantly as he describes the castle in detail and how he’s spent the months exploring it. She’s surprised to hear that there are other enchanted white animals, and she’s amused to hear about Lucifer’s antics. But any relief she might have had fades away completely the moment he mentions that he shares Cas’s bed every night. It’s hard to tell from the light of the candles, but Dean might even go so far as to say that the colour drains from her face.

“Does he _do_ anything to you?” Mom’s voice shakes as she whispers the question. Whether it’s with fear or rage, Dean isn’t sure.

Of all the ridiculous questions that she could have asked. “Dear _God_ , Mom! _No_! I honestly don’t think any of them would ever do anything _bad_ to me.” He rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. “The only issue I had there was being lonely, but I told Cas about it and now he’s going to spend more time with me.”

“But you said he’s _not_ a bear at night.” She stands up quickly and crosses the room to one of the storage chests they have along the walls. “If he can change his shape like that and doesn’t want you to know that he can, then he _must_ be hiding something. Why else would he enchant the candles and the curtains to make sure that you don’t see him.”

Great. Here she goes with the insane theories. Thankfully Sam and Adam aren’t here. Their imaginations would run rampant with all of this. Dean slumps back in his chair with a sigh. “He’s just _Cas_ , Mom. I don’t think he’s got a mean bone in his body. Seriously. He’s been watching _bees_ for six months just because he _thought_ I didn’t want him to be around.”

Mom shakes her head, clearly not listening to him while she roots through the chest. When she comes back to the table, she has two candles and a handkerchief in her hands. “You listen to me, Dean. This is a mother’s intuition. The White Bear and his brothers are _hiding_ something from you.”

“Well, _yeah_. Of course they are.” He knows that much at least, and he figures he’ll find that out soon enough. “The only bedroom I’m allowed to enter is Cas’s. And they all take off for the day without telling me where they’re going or why. If it was something I needed to know, I’m pretty sure I would have learned about it in the last _six months_.”

“Mark my words, there’s something _wrong_ with those animals.” She huffs as she folds the candles up in the handkerchief. The desperate, worried look in her eyes is the only reason Dean accepts the little bundle when she holds it out to him. “Take these back with you. _They_ aren’t enchanted.”

Dean stares down at the bundle, a sick feeling spreading in his stomach. Cas warned him not to speak to his mother alone. Is it because he knew that _this_ would happen? If so, how? Has it happened with the others who were bought before Dean was?

“What am I supposed to do with these?” He already knows her plan, but part of him doesn’t want to believe that Mom is asking him to betray Cas’s trust like this. And part of him doesn’t want to believe that he might actually follow through with this – because he _is_ curious. Dear God, but he _does_ want to know. He wants to know so badly that it’s like an itch at the base of his brain, and Dean _hates_ that feeling. It’s not like he _wants_ to betray Cas like this.

Mom reaches over and folds his fingers around the candles, holding his hand tightly between her own. “Use these at night when he’s sleeping. You should know what you’re sharing your bed with at night. For all you know, he could be a _troll_ trying to trick you.”

“But trick me into doing _what_?” Dean shakes his head and tries to give them back, but Mom just takes them to the small bag of things he had brought home with him. “It’s been _six months_ , Mom. If Cas and his brothers were planning something terrible, they’d have done it by now.”

Besides, if Cas was a troll, Dean is pretty sure he would have figured it out by now. The smell alone would be _terrible_ , right? The fingers that brush through his hair sometimes would probably feel thick or gnarled and not as gentle as they do. Cas’s voice would probably give him away in the dark too. Don’t trolls have rasping, horrible voices? And Cas’s voice is _really_ not like that. It’s rough, but really nice. Dean actually really likes his voice, not that he would tell his mother that.

Despite his protests, Dean doesn’t stop her from tucking them into his bag. And he makes no move to remove them now or at any point through the rest of the day. They’re still there and making his bag feel all the heavier when Cas arrives the next morning to escort him back to the castle. Is this the weight of betrayal? He should toss these the moment they get back. But something stays his hand while he’s unpacking the few clothes and trinkets he took with him. Dean really does _want_ to see what Cas looks like, it just – it’s difficult not to feel extremely guilty about it.

He feels queasy as he hides the candles and a tinderbox under his pillows. No, he won’t use them. Not right away, at least. If the curiosity gets to be too much, then he’ll do it, but for now – For now, he’d rather not. Cas has _just_ started being more friendly with him. The last thing Dean wants to do is jeopardize that by being a sneaky bastard. He’ll just – he’ll wait. For what, he doesn’t know. Maybe a day when the curiosity gets to be too much for him.

* * *

 

There should be something said about how it takes Dean a whole two months to finally break. Every day since his visit with his family has been fun. Cas takes him all over the forest, showing him all sorts of natural wonders. Dean has never seen a waterfall as tall as the one Cas showed him. He’s also never seen what a wet bear looks like, but Cas showed him that too after they went for a swim in the clearest lake Dean has ever seen.

Dean has cracked enough jokes and tripped over enough things during his walk that he’s actually even heard Cas _laugh_. It was an exhilarating feeling to hear it. They haven’t known each other very long (kinda), but even Dean could tell that Cas laughing was a rare and special thing. Cas’s brothers more or less confirmed that when they heard him laughing during dinner one evening and actually decided to _join_ them, just to investigate what could be so funny. The weirdest dinner of Dean’s life was eaten in the company of six white beasts.

He’s done his best to make Cas laugh at least once a day ever since.

It’s Cas’s laugh that Dean blames for why he’s sitting up in bed with one of Mom’s candles and the tinder box in his hands. He just – he _really_ wants to see what Cas looks like. Dean figures that the bear form Cas wears during the day isn’t his real body. Whatever Cas _really_ looks like is whatever is lying next to Dean right now. In the pitch dark of their room, Dean’s ears are filled with the pounding beat of his guilt ridden heart, and the soft snores that Cas is muffling into his pillow.

Can he do this? Can he _actually_ do this? Cas trusts him not to look at him or touch him at night. He _trusts_ Dean. Can he betray that just because he’s _curious_? But, what if Mom is right? What if Cas _is_ a troll? Or something worse? Dean covers his face with his hands and the cold metal of the tinderbox digs into his cheek. He can’t do this. He can’t betray Cas’s trust like this. But – but he wants to know what Cas looks like. What his _real_ form is. Because that – that would help validate these – what would he even call them? _Stirrings_?

It’s only because Dean is so certain that the bear isn’t Cas’s real form that these _feelings_ are creeping in. He’s fun to hang around and Dean has actually really enjoyed the last two months more than the six before it combined. In the last two months, he hasn’t missed his family nearly as much as he did before. The option of going back to them for another visit was always there, but Dean never took it. Partially because he didn’t want Mom to be on his case about whether or not he’d used the candles. And partially because he’s _really_ been enjoying his time here now that Cas isn’t hiding from him all the time.

Fuck it. What’s it going to hurt if he just takes a peek? He’ll be able to go back home for a visit and calm Mom’s worries because Cas is _not_ a troll. Not even a little bit. And then – then he can ask Cas why he has to hide from him. Or why he has the bear form in the first place. Or any number of other questions that are kicking around in Dean’s head.

He opens the tinderbox as quietly as he can and shakes the flint out of it. With the candle carefully held between his knees, Dean strikes the flint against the firesteel the box is made out of. The resulting spark gives him a quick moment to see where the candle actually is. But Dean waits to see if that first strike woke Cas. His heart almost stops when Cas shifts next to him, but he relaxes slightly as Cas’s snores continue. He sighs in relief and strikes the box again. This time he actually manages to light the candle.

With the little flame flickering in the dark, Dean holds the candle by the base and carefully turns to face Cas. He leans over and holds the candle out over Cas, trying to disturb the mattress and the blankets as little as possible. The moment his eyes adjust properly to the light, Dean’s breath stalls in his chest. Whatever vindication he feels at finally confirming that it’s no _troll_ sharing his bed is quickly overwhelmed by a resounding _wow_.

Dean was somewhat expecting some kind of fae, but he’s not at all disappointed to find a regular man sleeping next to him. Thanks to the candle, Dean gets to see the sharp angle of Cas’s nose for the first time. He memorizes the curve of Cas’s lips, and the stubble along his jaw. Cas’s hair is a short dark mess on the pillow with the ends of it curling against his forehead. Dean leans a little closer, almost wishing that Cas would open his eyes so he can see them too. Would they be that same dazzling blue that they are when he’s a bear?

Which – Alright. Here’s the big question. If Cas is a _human_ , then why does he turn into _bear_ during the day? Does this mean all of his brothers are like him too? Do they all change at night? If they’re all human, then _why_ do they change? Have they always been like this? Cas has hinted that he wasn’t always a bear, but Dean wants actual _answers_.

Okay. So, Mom was _really_ wrong. No would a troll look _this_ attractive. But – “Shit!”

Dean recoils sharply just as he notices the tallow of the candle is about to drip. But he’s too late. One drop lands on Cas’s neck and two splatter on the collar of his nightshirt. A bare heartbeat later and Cas’s fly open. He sits up sharply and brings a hand to his throat, brushing away the tallow. His fingers linger over the drops on his collar before he turns to Dean. The look in his eyes sends pain curling through Dean’s chest. It’s full of everything he was worried about.

“What have you done, Dean?” Cas doesn’t sound angry, and maybe that hurts the most. He just sounds sad. “I _told_ you not to speak to your mother alone.”

“I didn’t –” Dean’s free hand curls in the blankets. He ignores how the tallow stings his fingers and stains the sheets. Just as he ignores how the winds have picked up outside the room. They weren’t this loud a moment ago. “I didn’t know, Cas. I’m sorry. I should have listened. I’m –”

Cas shakes his head and that _sad_ fills him from his eyes to his voice to his very posture. “You’re not the first to try this. It’s always the same trick and I always stay awake the first several nights when they come back from their visits to make sure it wouldn’t happen.” He brings his hand to his collar again, pressing at the tallow that’s setting into the fabric. “But _you_ didn’t do it. I thought you were different. I thought I could _trust_ you.”

“I’m sorry, Cas. I really am.” He reaches out to touch Cas on the shoulder – something he’s never been allowed to do before. Cas doesn’t stop him this time. “I don’t understand what the big deal is.”

He keeps shaking his head and his hands move up to cover his face. “We were so close this time. If you had just held out another few months, we would have been free of this _hell_.”

Dean drops his hand as he realizes his touch isn’t doing anything to bring comfort. The wind outside is howling now, making the glass rattle in the window frames. “What are you talking about? Could you stop talking in riddles for just once and tell things to me straight?”

When Cas looks at him again, Dean _really_ hopes that it’s a trick of the candlelight that makes him see tears in those eyes. “One year. If you had shared my bed for _one year_ , the curse would have been broken and my brothers and I would be free.”

“Curse?” The word chokes him. How had Dean never put together that curses always come hand in hand with anything enchanted? “The animal forms are –”

“A curse. When my parents died, my brothers and I were set to rule these lands.” Cas looks down at his hands and he curls them into fists as a hard edge takes to his words. “But a witch wanted the power our family had. She demanded that one of us marry her daughter and make her queen. When we all refused,  we were given the forms of beasts by day and human by night.”

These are the answers to every question Dean had over the last eight months, but it’s far from what he ever imagined it would be. He sorts through what he’s learning, asking more questions as they arise. “But what’s the point of that? Why did you need my help – or the help of anyone? What’s the point of waiting a year? Or sharing a bed? Or –”

Cas presses a finger to his lips, ending his questions. “Curses always come with conditions, Dean. The curse kept us from being able to tell anyone of our plight. This castle was created with her magic to give us a place to stay.”

Dean can barely hear him over the wind now and it’s making his head pound. He focuses as best he can on what Cas is saying, watching his lips for the form of the words. “We’ve been living this cursed life for years now and the witch’s magic has lead the people of our kingdom to believe that there’s still a ruling family. All as a means of making sure that no one we knew would be able to come to our aid when they noticed us missing.”

Magic is fucked up. Dean has never questioned who is ruling the kingdom, but now that he thinks about it – actually _thinks_ about it – he can’t remember anything about them. Do they have a king and queen? Or just one? Who are they? What are their names? Nothing comes to mind even though a moment ago he would have said with all certainty that they _did_ have a ruling family.

After a moment’s pause, Cas’s hand falls away and he gives Dean the saddest look yet. “The only way to break our curse was for one of us to have someone sleep next to us for a year. Then we would be free. We’ve all been trying to bribe various families into letting the child that we find the most attractive live with us until the curse is broken.”

“But that’s so _dumb_.” Dean tightens his grip on the candle, unsure of whether he’s mad at the witch for cursing Cas and his family like this, or at the stupid conditions of the curse itself. He raises his voice above the wind so Cas can hear him, but it only makes his head hurt more. “Why would it be so hard for someone to do that?” After a beat, he winces. How many times has he tried to bring light to the room just so he could see what Cas really looked like? And what did he succeed with doing this night? “Okay, never mind. Dumb question.”

Somehow, Cas actually manages a laugh. It’s a small, dry little huff of air that sounds nothing like the one Dean has become so used to hearing. Is he ever going to get the chance to hear it again?

“What happens now?” The question is barely more than a whisper, but he hopes Cas can hear it. He’s too scared of the answer to want to ask it any louder. Even if he misses his family, Dean doesn’t want his time with Cas to be over.

“When morning comes, we’ll be gone.” Cas gives him a pained, almost terrified look. “The witch’s magic will take us to her castle and one of us will be forced to marry her daughter. I don’t know when we’ll be brought back, or what will happen to the people when she’ll rule them through her daughter, or even what will happen to those of us her daughter doesn’t want to marry. We might be chased from the kingdom or be forced to stay in our animal forms forever.”

This is Dean’s fault. If he hadn’t let Mom talk him into this – if he’d just thrown out the candles instead of keeping them – none of this would have happened. He could have happily spent the last few months sharing Cas’s bed and getting to know him more. And then they’d be free and Cas could be human all the time. But then they likely never would have seen each other again, what with the class differences and everything. Not that it matters, since they obviously won’t now.

Oh God, is it the guilt of his actions that’s making his head hurt this badly?

“Where is the witch’s castle, Cas?” Dean grabs his hand and squeezes it tight, using it to distract from his own pain. “If you’re going to be gone in the morning, then I’ll come find you. I never should have done this and I can never make it up to you, but I’ll save you and your brothers from this. I won’t let any of you marry a _witch_.”

Cas stares at him, disbelief plain on his face. But there’s a hope in his eyes, flickering like the flame of the candle still burning in Dean’s hand. “I can’t ask you to do that for us, Dean.”

“You’re not asking me to do anything. I _want_ to do this.” He shakes his head and pulls Cas’s hand to his chest, pressing it over his heart in attempt to swear his word about this. “I’m the one who fucked up here. I was weak and stupid and I’ve ruined everything. Let me be the one to fix it.”

Even if it means having to leave his homeland to do this, Dean has to do it. He fucked up and now he won’t be able to rest until he makes up for it. The whole point of him being here, even if he didn’t know it, was to save Cas and his brothers from their curse. And he’ll be damned if he’s going to be able to just go home and forget that they’re off being forced to marry the daughter of a witch who wants to take over their kingdom – _this_ kingdom. This is where Dean’s family lives and he damn well will not let them live under a witch who curses royal families for the fun of it.

God damn it all, there’s a whole _kingdom_ at stake all because Dean couldn’t contain his damn curiosity. This is going to weigh on him for as long as it takes him to fix it.

“East of the sun and west of the moon.” Cas can barely get his voice to be louder than a whisper and it’s almost lost to the wind. Maybe he doesn’t want to dare to hope that Dean will keep his word, but he’s clutching at Dean’s shirt like a dying man does at straws. His other hand comes up to cup Dean’s face. “Will you really do it? Will you really come for us?”

The pain in his head is making Dean’s vision swim, but he nods. “I swear –” An especially painful throb in his head makes him cut off with a gasp. He squeezes his eyes shut against the pain and brings up a hand to clutch his head. What is going _on_?

Cool hands cup his face between them, keeping his head up when all Dean wants to do is curl in on himself. “It’s the magic trying to force you to sleep so you won’t see me and the castle disappear.” Cas puts out the candle and takes it from Dean. “The more you fight against its pull, the more it will hurt you. Don’t fight it anymore. I believe you.”

Dean needs no further encouragement to fold forward. His forehead comes to rest on Cas’s shoulder as he sags against his chest. With gentle hands, Cas guides Dean back down against the pillows. He takes Dean’s hand and brushes the hardening tallow from his fingers, soothing over the skin that feels like it’s still pulsing from the heat of the candle.

“Just sleep now.” Cas’s voice is a soothing rumble in Dean’s ear, trying to lull him into giving in to whatever magic spell this is. “Do you remember where I said the witch’s castle is?”

Yes, of course. He’s in pain, but he’s not going to forget something important like that. “East of the sun and west of the moon.” Dean grits his teeth against the pain and grabs at Cas’s arm, holding on like _he’s_ the drowning man now. “I’m sorry, Cas. Don’t go.”

“I have no choice.” Cas’s words are a whisper in his ear and Dean’s grip on him tightens. “But if you keep your promise, I’ll see you again when you make it to the castle.” A thumb brushes his cheek. “And if we never meet again, then please know that you have been my favourite of all the guests I’ve had.” A soft kiss presses against Dean’s forehead, but it does nothing to sooth the pounding pain in his head. “I’ve enjoyed my time with you the –”

The pain grows too great and Dean doesn’t hear the rest.

When he opens his eyes next, Dean is staring at the dawn sky. Rays of sun are breaking over the horizon, turning the tops of the trees gold in its light. Grass tickles his skin and the birds have long since started their morning songs. He stares at the sky, watching the light chase away the darkness and turn the clouds all manner of colours.

The castle and its six enchanted inhabitants are gone.

Slowly, Dean sits up. There’s a dull pain in his temples, but it’s nothing like last night. He glances around the field, surprised to find mostly trees where the castle had been just the night before. The entire landscape is different, nothing like anything he’s memorized over the last eight months. Anything that belonged to him in the castle is sitting scattered around him in the grass.

It’s like everything is continuing as if nothing happened, even though Dean’s world has been turned on its head. His eyes sting, but he blinks back the tears. His hands shake as he picks up his things, stuffing them haphazardly into his bag. He doesn’t have the time to be loitering around here, waiting for something to happen. The longer he takes to find Cas and the witch’s castle, the harder it will be to save them from a marriage they don’t want – and he doesn’t even know who will be picked for that. If he fails in this self-imposed mission, then all he can hope for is that it isn’t Cas.

Dean knows the path home from here, but it’s not the one he takes. The area around the castle has changed, but he needs to confirm one thing before he heads home. Over the last two months, he and Cas have gone every few days to the flower fields. Were those an illusion of the witch’s magic too? To his relief, the buzzing bees are bouncing between the flowers just like they were yesterday.

A flutter relief fills his chest as a hard determination fills his head. This only reinforces that this wasn’t a dream. This was _real_. Cas and his brothers and the witch are all real. With this in the forefront of his mind, Dean turns on his heel and heads for home. He’s going to need a horse and supplies. And then he’s going to need to ask some questions because he has _no_ idea where a castle that sits east of the sun and west of the moon might be.

* * *

 

“Whoa, girl, whoa.” Dean pulls on the reins lightly as his horse canters to a stop. He pats her neck in an affectionate gesture. “Why don’t you take a rest while I see if we’ll have any luck here, okay?”

She nickers and paws the ground as he swings down from the saddle. Dean has done his best not to count the days since he set out from home, not wanting to wonder how little time he has left to complete his mission. He’s stopped at every house he’s come across, asking the same question. No one has ever heard of the witch’s castle before. It’s getting a bit disheartening, but Dean isn’t going to stop. Not yet. Not until he’s found them and righted the wrong he made.

A great mountain towers over the small hut he’s stopped at today. It’s the first he’s found since he entered the forest yesterday and followed the only path that was offered to him. There’s a woman sitting in a rocking chair outside the door of the hut. She looks only a little older than Dean’s mother, but she watches him with sharp eyes as he approaches. In her hands is a peculiar item – a _golden_ _apple_ that she polishes with her apron. Dean’s never seen one of those before.

He pays the apple no mind as he bows to her. “Good day, my lady.”

“And to you, sir.” She nods her head in return and pauses with her polishing. “Who are you and what brings you to my neck of the woods?”

“My name is Dean Winchester and I’m nothing but a peasant looking for information.”

She hums and narrows her eyes slightly. “And my name is Ellen. What information are you looking for?”

Dean fixes her with a hopeful smile. “Have you ever heard of a witch who lives in a castle east of the sun and west of the moon?” Please let her have the answer he seeks.

“You’re looking for a witch? That’s a dangerous path you take.”

It’s not the answer he wanted, but it’s not a _no_ either. That picks up Dean’s spirits just a little. “I made a mistake and a good friend of mine was taken away by the witch. He and his brothers are princes and one of them is going to be forced to marry the witch’s daughter if I don’t make it in time to save them.”

Ellen looks away from him and into the forest, humming softly again while she things. “I can’t say that I know the way, but I know if you continue along this forest road you’ll come across a good neighbour of mine. He’s a weathered old coot with more knowledge than he knows what to do with. If you ask him, he might know.”

“That’s the best news I’ve heard all week.” Dean bows to her again, wishing there was something he could do to thank her. When he stands again to ask, he jumps in surprise as she tosses her golden apple to him and he fumbles to catch it.

“Take that with you.” Ellen wipes her hands on her apron and stands too. “I was saving it for my daughter when she comes back from town, but I think you’re going to need it more than her.” She gives him an encouraging smile that brightens Dean’s mood plenty. “Good luck, Dean Winchester. I feel like you’re going to need it.”

With another deep bow and quick thank you, Dean returns to his waiting horse. He wraps the apple with a spare cloth and carefully tucks it into one of his saddlebags. Even if it might have no use to him on his journey, Dean is happy to have it. At the very least it will make a nice snack.

The path through the forest is wide, by the branches hang low and Dean doesn’t dare ride his horse at full gallop through it. He leans over her neck and watches the forest around them, looking for any sign of the neighbour’s home. As it turns out, that’s about half a day’s ride from Ellen’s and Dean comes upon it in the early evening.

Ellen never mentioned that her neighbour was a hunter or one of the Southern people. Or rather, that’s Dean’s first impression of the older man sitting on a rock outside his hut. All around the small clearing are racks covered in drying furs and cured meats. The hunter even has a fire crackling away in a pit at his feet with meat roasting on a spit. In his hands is an iron shield and embellished with curling lines of gold. Perhaps left over from days when he might have been a knight instead of a hunter?

Just as Ellen was doing, the hunter is in the midst of polishing the shield with a cloth. His skin is dark like the Southern people, but his eyes are bright and track Dean’s movements the moment the path opens to his clearing.

“Ho, stranger!” The old man calls out, lifting his hand to wave Dean down. “I don’t get visitors through here often. Are you lost?”

“Depends on whether or not you’re the overly knowledgeable neighbour Ellen told me of.” Dean brings his mare to a stop and she shakes her head at the pull of the reigns.

The old hunter throws his head back with a soured laugh. “Folks round these parts call me Rufus. I’m just one of Ellen’s so-called knowledgeable neighbours. Old Bobby further up the mountain knows more than I ever could.” He shakes his head while he laughs, reaching down to pick up a water skin from next to his rock. Dean hazards the guess that it’s likely full of wine.

After Rufus takes a hardy couple gulps from the skin, he drops it to the ground again and pins Dean with a calculating look. “What is it you’re wanting to know?”

“The location of a witch’s castle.” Dean doesn’t bother stepping down. He has the feeling that he isn’t as welcome here as he was at Ellen’s. From the back of his horse he describes his mission in quick words, hoping beyond hope that Rufus will have the answer he needs.

His heart pitches into his boots when Rufus shakes his head. “I’ve never heard of such a castle, or any witch in these parts. But if there’s anyone around here who _does_ know, or at least knows who to ask about that, it’s Bobby.” Rufus stands and shoulders his shield as he talks. He crosses the little clearing to the path. “Keep following the path until the split in the road. Take the road to the east that leads up into the mountain. Bobby won’t be far past that.”

“Thanks for the information, Rufus.” Dean tips his head to him in gratitude and steers his mare back onto the path. “What are the chances I can make it there before nightfall and Bobby will give me a space to rest for the night?”

Rufus gives him a hard stare before he shrugs. “As good a question as any. It’s not too far a ride from here. Just up the mountains a ways.” He drums his fingers on the edge of his shield a few times before sighing and holding it out. “Here, take this with you.”

Is he joking? That’s a _shield_. Dean stares down at it in awe. “Thank you?”

“Bobby will see it and know that I sent you.” Rufus all but shoves it into Dean’s hands and quickly steps away. “And you said you’re going to face down a pair of witches. It’s old and it ain’t much, but that shield has kept me alive more times than I can count. Might come in handy for you.”

What is it with the people in this forest and their generosity? Skeptical as he is, Dean bows his head and slings the shield onto his arm for a lack of anywhere else to put it. “Thank you, Rufus. I promise to return it to you one day.”

“Don’t bother. I’m long done with the days when I needed it.” Rufus gives the shield one last longing look before he retreats back to his rock. “Just use her best as you see fit.” He picks up his wine skin again and downs a hefty draught of it. After wiping his chin, he squints at Dean and makes a dismissive gesture. “Well, go on now. Nothing else keeping you here, is there?”

There isn’t, and the sun is setting fast. The forest is already growing dark now that the sun is below the tree line. Dean wishes Rufus well and taps his heels against his mare’s side to start her forward again. She snorts and shakes her head, but heads off down the path nonetheless. There’s a good few non golden apples in one of his saddle bags especially for her as a treat for her hard work throughout the day. He gives her rests when he thinks she’s getting tired, but it still feels like he pushes her more than the poor mare is used to doing in a day.

With that in mind, he’s probably not the only one relieved to see the glow between the trees before they finally reach Bobby’s home. Just like Rufus, there are several drying racks standing around the clearing, all of which are empty. Bobby likely took them in for the night. There’s a fire pit in the middle of the clearing with flames still licking around fresh logs. Some uprooted tree stumps surround the pit, looking for all the world like actual seats.

There are no candles in the windows of the hut, which leads Dean to believe that Bobby likely isn’t inside. He swings down from the horse’s back, glancing around for anyone who might be hiding in the trees. “Hello? Anybody home?”

Unsurprisingly, there’s no answer. Dean leads his mare to a hitching post at the edge of the clearing and ties her reins to it. While he fetches out a couple apples for her, he continues with his vigilant watch. “I’m looking for the one called Bobby. Rufus told me I would find him along this path.” He holds up the arm the shield is on. “He sent me with this as proof that I spoke with him.”

A bearded old hunter steps out from behind some trees, a sword in his hand. “That old bastard actually gave up his shield? Bullshit.”

Dean shrugs and holds it out, more than willing to let Bobby take it if he asks for it. “After he heard my story, he said I might need it more than him. Ellen said the same about her golden apple. Not sure what good they’ll do me, but I was thankful for it.”

“Ellen?” Bobby looks Dean over with a calculating eye. After a moment, he waves his sword at Dean in a gesture towards the fire. “Sit. You had yourself some dinner yet, boy?”

“Not yet, sir.” He shakes his head and lowers the shield. “I have some rations in my pack that I was going to eat when I finally stopped for the night.”

With a snort, Bobby sheathes his sword and heads towards his hut. “And where are you planning to do that, I wonder?”

“Wherever I’m allowed to, sir.” Maybe if he’s exceptionally courteous (for him, at least) then he might be allowed to stay here, even if it is outside.

Bobby doesn’t say a word as he ducks inside his hut. He comes out moments later with two cups in one hand with a wine skin hanging off his arm. In his other hand he has a plate piled with dry meat and what looks like freshly roasted potatoes. There’s another plate stacked underneath it and when he takes his seat again, Bobby separates half the food onto it before handing it to Dean. He even pours him a cup of wine and hands that over too.

“Eat.” The command is completely unnecessary and Dean digs in immediately. Bobby, however, only takes a long drink and gestures at Dean again. “You said you’ve got yourself a story to tell?”

Dean nods and swallows his current mouthful of food. “I do, sir. Do you want the long version or the short version?” It’s a little annoying having to explain what he’s doing every single time he meets someone to ask for direction, but if it’s what eventually leads him to Cas, then he’ll damn well do it.

“I ain’t going anywhere.” Bobby waves a hand at him to continue. “Hit me.”

Well, he asked for it.

* * *

 

“Wake up, boy.”

A toe digs into Dean’s side and he groans at it. He rolls onto his stomach and pushes himself up onto his knees without opening his eyes. The blanket covering him falls away, but he doesn’t mind it. Even if it’s early morning, the forest is already getting warm. Dean’s horse is cantering in place at the edge of the clearing, neighing for some attention.

He groans again and stretches. “Hardly feels like I slept at all.”

Bobby just grunts and shoves a small loaf of bread in front of his face. “You sure? Coz’ last night I could’ve sworn that you slept like the dead. You drank the most outta that skin last night and I almost thought there was a damn dragon sleeping in my yard.”

Dean frowns up at him around a mouthful of bread. “Cas never complained about my snoring.”

“Then he’s as deaf as he is screwed.” With a loud sigh, Bobby drops onto one of the stumps by where Dean fell asleep. “Y’just don’t go _fighting_ witches. There’s no beating their magic. What y’gotta do is outsmart them. They hate that shit. Drives ‘em crazy. Some say they actually explode out of frustration if they’re beaten like that.”

Okay, now that just sounds like a blatant lie. “That can’t be true.”

His answer is a shrug while he takes a bite of his own bread. “Just telling you what I’ve heard. The only thing I know for certain is that a witch can’t touch water. Burns her like it was fire. Dump some over her head and she’ll melt like a hot candle.”

Yeah, that sounds about the same as what Dean’s dad told him before he left home. Since then, he’s come up with at least three dozen different ways he could find a way to soak the witches. Of course, that’s only if they don’t fry his ass with their magic the moment he shows up. But that’s a bridge he’s going to cross when he gets to it. As far as he can tell, there’s nothing he can really do about it until he’s faced with the challenge. He doubts the shield Rufus gave him will be enough to ward off magic.

Something bump Dean in the shoulder while he’s eating and thinking. He glances up to find Bobby holding out his sword from last night, still sheathed. The sheath itself is overly ornate with finely cured leather and gold stitching. It matches the hilt of the sword, actually. The gold filigree twisting around the grip catches the eye. Actually, it matches the shield that Dean strapped to his horse’s saddle last night.

“Take it.” Bobby wiggles the hilt in Dean’s face. “It’s not going to do any good against magic, but witches are never alone. If she’s got any minions milling about, this’ll take care of them.” He sniffs and looks away. “Besides, I’ve never heard of a traveller going around unarmed. That’s just plain foolishness.”

Funny enough, weapons were never something Dean thought to bring with him. And even if he had, they didn’t have any at home. He took supplies, some money, and bought the horse when he passed through town. It’s likely because Dean was just in way too much of a hurry to think straight. If Mom hadn’t forced a pack and supplies on him, he probably would have left without that too.

Dean bows his head and accepts the sword. “Thank you, Bobby. I’m sure it will come in handy.”

“She’s served me well enough.” Bobby gives the sword a fond look while Dean fumbles to attach the sheath to his belt. “She’ll do good being out and about in the world again. Swords and shields weren’t meant to be displayed on a wall.”

He doesn’t have the heart to tell Bobby that the only time he’s ever played with a sword and shield where when they were crudely crafted by a child’s hands from sticks and bark. Dean and Sam used to play any number of games with their fake swords. They’ve been knights in the forest and warrior princes in the fields. That was plenty of fun, but the shield and sword he has with him now are heavier than those ever were. He doubts he’s going to be able to use these very effectively.

After breakfast, Bobby walks Dean to his horse. “D’you remember what I said to you last night about the castle?” He doesn’t bother waiting for Dean to answer. “I don’t know where it is, but I know who you can ask. Someone who’s goes everywhere. Speak to the East Wind. She lives up on the mountain top.”

Dean looks up through the trees at the mountain towering above them. He has to make it all the way up there? Will his horse even be able to make that trek? Bobby must know his thoughts, because he grins at him. “Keep following the road. It’ll take you to a mountain path soon enough and you can ride it right to the summit.”

Oh thank God. Dean relaxes with a sigh. “Thank you, Bobby. You’ve been a great help to me.”

Bobby waves it off and heads back towards his hut. “Good luck to you, boy. Witches aren’t gonna be much fun to deal with.”

Yeah, Dean _really_ isn’t looking forward to it.

* * *

 

As it turns out, the East Wind actually knows of the castle, but she’s never been to it. Luckily, she was willing to take Dean straight to her stronger sister, the West Wind, who might be able to travel to it. Dean has never travelled by _wind_ before, but it’s quite the exhilarating experience. His poor horse had to be left behind on the East Mountain. It was better than risking her freaking out among the clouds.

The West Wind had never been to the castle either, but she was willing to carry Dean to the South Wind. By the time the South Wind takes him to the North Wind, the novelty of being carried by the wind has worn off. Dean is getting a _little_ bit tired of being passed from one wind to the other. Of course, he doesn’t let any of that show as he thanks the South Wind for bringing him to her oldest sister.

The North Wind feels colder than her sisters as she swirls around Dean’s leg. Her voice is nothing but a whisper in his ear. “I know of the castle you seek.”

“Your sisters knew of it too.” Dean fights the urge to shiver and he knows better than to look around him to try and spot the source of the voice. The Wind Sisters have no physical form and it took him a while to figure that out with the East Wind. “They’ve heard of it but never been there. Have you?”

“I have.” The North Wind sighs a physical breeze that tugs at Dean’s clothes. “I once blew an aspen leaf past the castle. The magic that surrounds it is powerful and it’s an exhausting trip.”

Shit. Dean chews on his lip and shifts in his spot. Can he really ask the _North Wind_ to take him there? It’s not going to be an easy thing for her if carrying just a _leaf_ tired her out. What would it be like to carry someone like him? He definitely weighs _way_ more than a simple _leaf_. But – it’s not like she needs to take him straight to the cancel. If she can drop him within walking distance, before the magic starts, then he could make the rest of the trip on foot.

“Don’t fret so much, traveller.” That wispy voice curls around him tighter than before, pressing in on him as the North Wind lifts Dean from his feet. “I will take you to your prince. We Winds will not tolerate the foul schemes of a witch.”

Thank God! Dean was worried he was going to have to try and negotiate something, and all he’s got left is a pack of supplies, a handful of his remaining coin, and the golden items that Ellen, Rufus, and Bobby gave him. He doubts that any of that would have been of any good to _wind_. Thought, after all the things he’s seen on this journey, he wouldn’t be surprised to find that the North Wind and her sisters _did_ collect various things they might come across during their own long journeys around the world.

Even if he fails at his quest, at least Dean will be able to tell people that he actually _fell asleep_ while soaring through the clouds with the aid of the North Wind. On the bright side, sleeping for more than half the trip made it feel much shorter than it actually was. And he did get to see some impressive sights. For one, Dean has never seen the ocean before. But thanks to the North Wind, he got to fly along its endless coast for what felt like ages.

When his feet finally touch the ground again, the North Wind speaks to him again. Her voice actually sounds tired (one could say that she sounds _winded_ ) when she speaks to him again. “The castle that lies east of the sun and west of the moon sits out on the waters.” An unseen touch presses against his chin, guiding Dean to turn his head towards the expanse of the sea stretching out from his feet. “You can see the spires of it through the mist.”

Sure enough, the morning mist on the waters obscures only part of the castle. But it’s a ways out and there is no boat in sight. The North Wind must know his thoughts. She laughs and it sounds like the rustling of leaves. “You will have to wait for low tide this afternoon. But when the waters recede, a path will be revealed to the castle. When you take it, leave your sword sheathed and put your shield on your back. If the witch sees you as a threat, she will call the waters back.”

Dean stares out at the water and the waves crashing against the shore. He can swim, but he learned how in a _creek_ where the water was no deeper than his chest. He never set foot in the rushing river, and there were no lakes easily reached from his hope. The ocean is a new and wholly terrifying beast lying before him. There is _no way_ that he’s going to risk getting stranded out in its waters.

“Thank you, North Wind.” He turns his face into her invisible caress. “I owe you a debt for the help your family has given me. If there’s anything I can ever do for any of you, then don’t hesitate to find me. I’ll do whatever is in my power for you and your sisters.”

“A big promise from such a small creature.” The North Wind muses, but she still sounds happy by his promise. “Thank you, Dean Winchester. You walk with the blessings of the four winds. We wish you all the luck in the world.”

The tugging breeze that twirls around him eases and Dean almost thinks he can see the North Wind dancing away through the branches of the trees lining the beach. He watches her go before seating himself in the sand. The afternoon is a while out yet, but that gives Dean the time to figure out how to convince the witch to let him in to the castle. Better yet, he’s going to need a decent excuse to even be allowed to see Cas or his brothers. If they’re still here, that is. For all he knows, his mission could already have failed and the castle will be empty.

And above all that, Dean isn’t even sure how he’s going to be able to defeat the witches and free Cas and his brothers. What can he do with a sword he doesn’t know how to use, a shield that can’t deflect magic, and a golden apple? At most, he might be able to use them as some kind of bartering, but giving them up feels _wrong_. These were gifts from kind strangers. And Dean would like to return them someday. It would suck if he lost them.

It’s a lot to think about, and Dean spends his time plotting and concocting plans.

* * *

 

As he walks along the sea path to the castle, Dean tosses the golden apple from one hand to the other. He even whistles a merry little tune. If he’s lucky, this is going to make him look unassuming. Hopefully it’ll also distract from the fact that there’s a damn _sword_ on his belt. It’s an unfamiliar weight, but Dean still welcomes it.

He’s more than halfway between the castle and the shore, and so far the waters haven’t risen yet. And he also hasn’t seen a single soul since the North Wind left him. This is starting to creep him out. This is the first time in his life that he feels so _alone_. There aren’t even any birds, and he hasn’t seen a single fish. It’s like every creature in the world is avoiding this place, and he doesn’t fault them for it.

The closer that Dean gets to the castle, the harder it is for him to take each step. There’s a feeling like _dread_ crawling across the back of his neck and forcing a shiver down his spine. Everything inside of him wants to turn away and _run_ from this place. But he can’t. Dean made a _promise_. If Cas is in there, then he’s going to save him. And if he’s not, well – it’s not like he’ll ever know that for sure if he doesn’t check it out, right? Right.

When he finally reaches the island where the castle lies, Dean is surprised to find it sitting so close to the shore. When the tide comes in, it _must_ touch the castle walls. As witches, he would’ve thought that they’d have as much room between them and the water as they could manage. But this is a genius place to hide. Who would ever think to look for witches out on the water where they could easily die from some stray sea spray?

In fact, there’s barely any actual _land_ to the island with the tide out. Dean can’t help but wonder if there’s any courtyard within. If it wasn’t for the whole witch thing, Cas would probably still hate it here. He loves nature and Dean doubts that any bees would ever come out this far from the mainland. There probably aren’t any flowers either.

Standing at the gates of a castle is a girl who looks no older than Dean. She wears a layered gown befitting a princess. The wide skirt has a green boarded hem, but the layers are varying shades of blacks and purples. It’s a rather pretty dress and it suits her well. Dean never expected a witch to look this pretty. Whether she’s the witch who cursed Cas, or her daughter, it’s pretty hard to tell. Magic probably keeps them looking as young as they please.

Either way, Dean _knows_ that the woman standing before him is undoubtedly a witch. There’s an aura around her that makes his skin crawl. As if she’s trying to confirm his suspicions, the woman raises her hand and flicks her wrist at him. In the same moment, her eyes flicker black. That takes Dean’s breath away almost as much as the invisible force that brings him to a complete stop. It presses in on him from all sides, making it hard to breathe, let alone move.

“I don’t know who you are or why you’re here.” The witch picks up her skirts and walks over to Dean. “But you should turn around and leave. My mother and I can do _much_ worse than this.” A cruel smile curves her red lips. “You’re lucky you’re getting a warning.”

It takes some effort to find his voice, but Dean manages to summon it and force it out. “You’re the witch’s daughter, then? Just the people I’ve been looking for.”

Her smile slips slightly and her eyes drop to the sword. After a moment, she rolls them and laughs. “Oh, _please_ tell me that you’re a hunter! It’s been ages since one tried fighting us. We could use the entertainment. We’ve got some guests who are getting restless and I’m sure they’d just love to see what Mother can do to a pathetic little hunter like you.”

Dean’s grip on the apple tightens and he grits his teeth. “By guests, are you talking about the princes Castiel, Michael, Raphael, Lucifer and Gabriel?”

The witch’s smile vanishes completely. Once again her eyes flash black and the weight pressing on Dean gets so bad that it pushes him to his knees. His next breath comes on a gasp. Holy _shit_. This is not what he was planning to have happen and he fucked up. He fucked up so bad. Now he’s going to die and he didn’t even get to see Cas.

Fingers curl into his hair and Dean’s neck protests as his head is pulled up. The witch’s nose is only inches from his. “What do you know of the princes?” She spits the words, anger in every syllable. “Are you here to _save_ them?”

“No.” Dean chokes out his answer, trying to blink away how the world is going gray around the edges. “I just – I only came to see Cas.”

Surprise fills the witch’s face. She lets go of his hair and the unyielding pressure crushing him gives way. Dean sags forward onto one hand with a gasp, letting his head hang between his shoulders while he catches his breath. The golden apple he cradles to his chest, keeping it safe for now. It’s one of the few bargaining chips that he has and he’s not about to accidentally crush it just because he’s relieved he’s not on the brink of dying right now. Though that’s still a very real possibility in his future.

“You can to see _Castiel_?” Her words are marked with disbelief, but that only lasts for a very short time. When Dean manages to get to his feet again, there’s nothing but amusement in her eyes. “And why is that, hm? Aw, buttercup, don’t tell me that _you’re_ the one who ruined their chances at being free of the curse. How long did you make it? How many months?”

There’s no point in lying right now. Dean gets the sneaking suspicion that she could wring the truth out of him with nothing more than the blink of an eye. “Eight.” He can’t look her in the eye when she laughs again. It’s a cruel sound and he hates it. “I’ve only come to apologize to him.”

“And what makes you think I’m going to let you in?”

This is where the golden apple comes into play and Dean holds it out to her. The witch’s eyes light up with delight and she starts to reach for it, scowling immediately when he holds it out of her reach. “I’ll give you this if you let me spend the night with Cas one more time.”

His bargain earns him a narrow eyed stare. It’s the kind that makes his heart start pounding in his chest. All he can do is cross his fingers and pray at this point for some kind of miracle. He just needs one night to talk to Cas, to figure this out. Cas will know this place and the witches. _Cas_ will have the kind of knowledge that Dean needs to figure out how to save them.

“Mother isn’t going to like this.” The witch crosses her arms and continues to frown at him. Her eyes dart between Dean and the apple in his hands a few times before she sighs. “Oh, very well. We’re not married yet, so I _guess_ it’s okay.”

It feels like the whole of the cold ocean has been dumped on his head. Dean’s heart stutters painfully in his chest and he forces himself not to react. “You –” The words get stuck in his throat and Dean swallows around the lump they build there. “You decided to marry Cas then, did you?”

“Mmhmm!” She looks so pleased with herself and Dean hates it. “He’s just so _interesting_. I could talk about him for _hours_. And much cuter than his brothers, don’t you think?”

“I wouldn’t know.” He looks away, fighting back a bitter sting at the back of his tongue. “Cas is the only one of them I ever saw as anything but an animal.” It’s not like he has any particular desire to see Cas’s brothers as their true forms, but it still sucks _a lot_ that the one and only time he saw the real Cas was the biggest fuck up that Dean’s ever made in his life.

The witch looks ridiculously delighted to hear that. She probably thrives on other people’s pain. Dean is quickly coming to the conclusion that he does _not_ like her. Especially when she holds out her hand, curling and uncurling her fingers in a grabbing motion. “Give me the apple.”

Dean shakes his head and takes a step back. “You can have it when I get to see Cas.”

“Fine. But that will only be _tonight_.” She crosses her arms again and frowns at him. “Until then, you’re going to sit in a room and wait for me to take you to Castiel’s room.”

Fair enough. As long as the room isn’t a torture chamber, Dean will be happy with it. Especially if this long day will end with getting to see Cas again. It feels like forever since Dean saw him last and he’s _really_ looking forward to it. How happy is Cas going to be to see him? Probably ecstatic. How often has someone actually kept a promise to him?

“Lead on, my lady.” Dean folds at the waist and bows to her, making a gesture for her to head the way.

She huffs and turns on her heel. With her skirts in her hands again, she stomps off through the castle gates and Dean follows as close as he dare. The last thing he wants to do is get lost in the castle. What if he runs into the Mother Witch? That would just be – Well, shit.

The moment they’re within the castle proper, the witch he’s with tilts her head back and shouts into the halls. “ _Mother!_ ” Her voice echoes against the cold stone walls, louder than Dean ever would have thought possible. She must be using her magic to amplify her voice or something.

It isn’t long before another woman shows up at the top of the stairs in the main hall. The stairs are just as bare as the rest of the castle. There are sconces full of fire to light the walls, but no decorations. No carpets, or draperies, or paintings. No pedestals with vases of flowers, or busts of some important person, or even a suit of armor. There’s _nothing_ and the castle feels strangely empty to him. It’s nothing like the castle that he spent the last eight months living in.

The witch at the top of the stairs looks nothing like her supposed daughter. Is that more magic at work? Can they alter their appearance at will to look like they want? Or is it normal for a mother to have red hair and her daughter to have black hair? His own mom has blonde hair and Dean and Adam are somewhere in between her hair and Dad’s. Sam has Dad’s hair through and through.

“Meg.” Mother Witch crinkles her nose as she lifts her skirts to walk down the stairs. She wears the same style of dress but in different colours. “What is the meaning of this?”

“I made a deal with him to get a golden apple, Mother.” Daughter Witch, apparently named _Meg_ , shrugs and she makes a flippant gesture towards Dean. It makes him feel like he’s insignificant to them both. “He’s come to talk to Castiel. That’s it. One night with my husband to be in exchange for that golden apple of his.”

Mother Witch frowns. Her lips are dyed red like blood and Dean can’t look away from them. “And you didn’t think to ask my permission first? What if he’s here to try and free the princes?”

With a loud sigh, Meg switches into a harsh, guttural language that Dean has never heard before. He stares between them as they speak quickly to one another. The conversation, short as it is, finishes with a wide, terrifying smile spreading across Mother Witch’s face. Dean’s mind races with any possibility of what to do next.

It settles on something in an instant and Dean steps forward into a bow. “My name is Dean Winchester and I’m the peasant who failed to break Cas’s curse.” Now it’s time to use some sugared words to win his way into the good graces of the witches. “I’ve come to beg the Ladies of the castle to give me one last night with him. If only just to apologize.” The words are a bit flowery, but hopefully they’ll get the job done – if he’s lucky.

“You speak to the Lady Abaddon and this is my daughter, the Lady Meg.”

Mother Witch steps forward and holds her hand out to Dean, already acting like the queen she’s never going to be. Unless she has the plans to marry to one of Cas’s brothers, it’s only her daughter who will be Queen. Either way, Dean still steps forward to press a kiss to the back of her hand and quickly backs away to do the same for Meg – just so she doesn’t feel like she’s being left out.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Dean tries for his best smile when he stands up again. “I’m afraid I didn’t get to hear too much about you when I was with Cas. He only mentioned you at the very end.”

Abaddon hums and taps her chin with her finger. “I’m not surprised. That one is a little quieter than his brothers, but so very stubborn. But Meg will train him out of that soon, won’t you dear?”

“Of course, Mother!”

Dean wants to gag. It’s like they don’t even _know_ Cas. Once he gets on a topic he’s passionate about, it’s hard to shut him up. By their second trip to the flower field, Dean knew everything about bees that he never wanted – or needed – to know. He was even told how to safely remove honey from a hive without getting stung. Cas was even all sad that he couldn’t give Dean a proper demonstration. They got on the topic of travel and Cas took him to the library to pull down every single map they had just so they could make a list of all the places they wanted to see in their lifetimes. They talked for hours and researched the different countries – if they had books on them.

Once he actually got to _know_ Cas, he was hardly anything like the first impression Dean had of him. Clearly Meg and Abaddon haven’t taken the chance to try and know him. They just think he’s a pretty face and a title they can use for their own gain. It chafes Dean’s hide like not even riding horseback for days ever managed to do.

“You must be hungry.” Abaddon’s smile _looks_ soft, but Dean still feels like evil is literally dripping down his spine. “Meg, show our guest to the kitchens and let him prepare something to eat. The tide will be coming in soon, and along with it the night. I think we could all do with a good night’s _sleep_ , don’t you?”

Meg’s smile is much more sinister. “Yes, Mother. I agree entirely.” She grabs Dean by the elbow and starts dragging him down a hall. “Come on, come on. We don’t have all day now. I still need to make sure that the princes get their nightcaps.”

Dean frowns at the back of her head, paying less attention to her words and more attention to the layout of the castle. If he gets lost in here while he’s trying to get Cas and his brothers out, that’s going to be the end of them. Worse yet, they’re going to have to try and get back to land either in the water or their escape needs to be timed perfectly with the tide.

Just like the rest of the castle, there’s nobody in the kitchen either. The cupboards are overflowing with more food than Dean has ever seen in his lifetime. Dean can’t help staring around it. There’s a stew boiling on the stove with actual _bowls_ floating around it. He watches, mouth open, as a ladle moves on its own and scoops stew into the bowls. A few containers bounce from the shelves to shake seasonings on top of the stew.

Meg pulls Dean out of the way as loaves of bread sail off a table. “It’s dinner time for our guests.” She explains it with a bored tone as the loaves twirl in spirals around the bowls. Together, they gently float their way past and out of the kitchen.

“Did you do that?”

“Mother does most of the magic in the castle.” Meg shrugs and plucks a bowl from a cupboard. She tosses it to Dean, though it falls short and ends up simply floating into his hands. It makes her laugh and she gives him a wink. “Though I do my fair share, of course. Now help yourself to a loaf of bread and as much stew as your peasant stomach can handle.”

Dean forces himself not to sneer at the thinly veiled insult. His a peasant, not an idiot. Instead, he slaps a smile on his face. “Thank you, Lady Meg. Your generosity is as appreciated as your beauty.” As a bonus, Dean even dips into another bow. He’ll play up to every aspect of their egos if it means lulling them into a false sense of security. “Will I be treated to your company for this meal?”

“You flatterer, you.” Meg laughs, but her gaze is calculating. “Mother and I have already eaten. But _you_ may take your dinner at the table in the corner.” The smile falls from her face and she points a threatening finger at him. “And if you even _think_ of leaving this room before I return to get the princes’ nightcaps, you _will_ regret it.” To emphasize her point, that crushing pressure from before squeezes Dean from all sides. It’s only for an instant, but it gets the point across well enough.

“Of course, my Lady. I’ll stay right here until you return.”

The air doesn’t feel as thick and uncomfortable as it had once she leaves. Dean takes a deep breath and forces himself to relax. He can do this. In just a few hours more he’ll get to see Cas and then they can work together on making things right again. Maybe they can just throw themselves from his window – as long as he’s not in any dungeons, of course. Damn, but that won’t help with freeing his brothers. Really, the only path Dean can see to saving them all is to take care of the witches first.

Nothing comes to mind, but he watches with interest as one of the bowls comes back three more times for a refill. It might be three different bowls, but he’s fairly sure that they all sport the same whorl in the wood grain. It’s hard to tell when the damn things keep bobbing in the air and a loaf of bread orbits around it at unbridled speed for baked goods.

All the bowls have fully returned and are in the process of washing themselves in a basin by the time Meg comes back to the kitchens. Dean is long finished with his own meal and he’s been watching Abaddon’s magic clean the kitchen in her absence. Magic is really fascinating, if not a little big terrifying. He’s still on edge from Meg’s little display earlier. Who knows when or how he might die in this castle? Hopefully that won’t be the case, but Dean is going to feel like he’s walking on eggshells the whole damn time that he’s here.

“Don’t bother getting up.” Meg waves her hand at him as she busies herself with mugs of warm ale. She doesn’t actually do it herself, instead waving her hand and making a pitcher float and pour the ale on its own. “I’m going to take these to the princes. You stay right there until I come back to get you.”

“Of course, my Lady. Thank you.” Dean bows his head and makes no move to get up.

He counts the time until she returns. Partially out of boredom, but mostly to try and figure out how far Cas and his brothers might be from the kitchens. Alternatively, how far they might be from the front door. By the time she gets back, he really has no clue how to use the numbers properly. Great, so that really was just a way to waste his time. Well, at least he wasn’t _too_ bored.

As soon as Meg steps into the kitchen again, Dean jumps to his feet and picks up his bag. She gives him a withering look, probably because he looks too excited for her liking. Can he really be blamed, though? He’s finally going to get to see Cas again! He can barely keep a bounce out of his step when Meg gestures for him to follow her. Hell, he might even _whistle_ – if he didn’t think that it would get him chucked out of the castle, deal or no deal.

His mental map of the castle grows as Meg takes him back to the main hall. They head up the stairs and turn toward the west wing. Then it’s up another set of stairs, out along a rampart that overlooks the ocean, and to the door of a tower. There’s no wind out here and Dean misses the breeze caused by the presence of the North Wind and her sisters. Hopefully they’ll be able to gust through these parts again once he deals with the witches.

Meg takes a key from her bodice and unlocks the door. “Alright, lover boy. Head on up.” She leans against the edge of the door and makes a sweeping gesture. “My husband-to-be is waiting for you in the room at the top of the tower.”

“I’m going to assume that there’s another locked door up there.” His neck protests as he tilts his head back all the way to stare up the length of the tower. It’s a _long_ way up and he’s going to have a heck of a climb. There’s probably at _least_ a hundred stairs in there. “Am I going to need another key?”

“No way.” She shakes her head and kisses the key in her hand. “I’ll take care of it all from down here. Now, I believe we had a deal, didn’t we?” Meg holds out her other hand, making the grabbing motion again. “My apple, if you please?”

Dean pulls it from his satchel and hands it over. “Cas better be at the top of this tower.”

“He is. You have my word as a witch.”

“I’ve never met a witch. I have no idea how good your words are.” He doesn’t spare her a glance as he heads through the door, hoping beyond hope that this isn’t some sort of elaborate trap.

Meg’s laugh follows him up the stairs, as does the boom of the door when she closes it. He can even hear the echoing click of the lock falling into place. There are little portholes in the stone, about as thick around as Dean’s arm, that let in a little of the light of the setting sun. Otherwise, the stairwell is lit by torches, burning brightly in their holders above his head. Dean doesn’t count anything this time, too focused on not losing his footing on the hard stone stairs.

Instead of the normal door that he was expecting to find at the top of the stairs, Dean almost cracks his head on a trap door. It doesn’t budge with the first push and he glares at it for a short moment before trying to knock. There’s no sound on the other side that he can hear. Shit, this really was a trap, wasn’t it? He’s about to turn back when there’s a click above his head and the trap door swings open. Shit, this is spooky as all hell.

Dean climbs the last of the stairs with a hand on the golden sword, ready for anything. What he finds is a completely normal looking room, save for the bars over the windows, of course. As soon as he’s out of the way, the trap door swings shut again and locks itself. There’s only the handle sitting in the middle of the floor boards that proves the door is there. Dean gives it an experimental tug, just to confirm that it’s not going to open.

Satisfied – and more than a little bit wary, Dean turns to check out the room. Most of the walls have bookcases taller than him and they’re covered it books and scrolls. There’s a fireplace against one wall with a fire still burning, giving the room light. In front of it are two plush looking chairs with a low table between them. Aside from a rug and a trunk, the only other furniture in the room is a big bed. It’s easily the same size as the one that Cas back in the enchanted castle.

His heart gives a funny little lurch when he sees Cas, curled up under the blankets with his back to Dean. Is he really already asleep? Or maybe he thinks Dean is Meg and he’s just flat out ignoring ‘her’? Well, either way, this’ll be a nice surprise for him, won’t it?

The bag and shield get dropped on route to the bed. Dean loses his belt with the sword at the same time he does his boots, just before he climbs onto the bed. He reaches out and touches Cas’s shoulder gently. “Hey, Cas? Wake up, you big ol’ bear. Guess who’s here!”

Cas doesn’t move and worry immediately blooms in Dean’s chest. He pulls at Cas’s shoulder, rolling him onto his back. There’s no reaction to the touch or to Dean’s voice. Instead, Cas just wiggles to get comfortable again. When he gives his first soft snore, Dean’s worries ease slightly, but what the _hell_? Meg only brought Cas his nightcap a short while ago. He can’t possibly be sleeping _already_! Didn’t she mention that Dean was here?

“ _Fuck_.” Dean sits back and stares at the curve of Cas’s cheek in the firelight. “This isn’t a trap. It’s a _trick_.” He should have known better than to trust goddamn _witches_.

Meg didn’t plan to let him actually _talk_ to Cas. She must have done something to his drink. A sleeping potion, most likely. That _bitch_. This goes against their deal. Witches are as good as their word, huh? Her word is _shit_ and she’s going to get it from him in the morning. For now – well, he’s in a comfortable bed and he’s got Cas sleeping next to him again. That’s better than nothing, isn’t it? Shit, but tomorrow the witches are going to tell him to leave and he’s not going to have the chance to actually _talk_ to Cas.

Unless – An idea occurs to him and he glances at the shield. Sorry, Rufus. But if she took the golden apple, maybe Meg might be interested in a gold embossed shield? He can only hope. And he’ll find out in the morning.

With a sigh, Dean slides down in the bed and gets comfortable under the covers. He lies on his side and faces Cas, watching him sleep. This is the first time he’s really gotten a chance to _look_ at him. That one night wasn’t enough, and definitely not with the weak light of a single candle. Speaking of, Cas is wearing the same night shirt tonight. Dean can see the drops of tallow still on his collar. He reaches out and touches them. Why hasn’t Cas washed those off yet?

The urge to touch is a little too strong and Dean’s hand drifts up to run his fingers through Cas’s hair. It’s the same kind of touch he used to give when he thought Dean was sleeping. Now that he can actually _see_ Cas and he knows that he’s human – he knows the whole story, Dean doesn’t mind this as much. Hopefully Cas won’t mind it either. Liking to touch is a lot different from liking to _be_ touched.

Maybe that’s something he can ask Cas if he ever gets the chance to actually speak with him again.

* * *

 

Of this whole damn castle, the kitchen is the only room Dean is actually familiar with. He’s poked through every cupboard, checked every shelf, examined every drawer, and done just about everything one _can_ do in a kitchen. Right up until Meg came back and gave him a job to do. Turns out, this is the only place where Meg and Abaddon are comfortable leaving him for the whole day. The door gets locked, just like the ones in Cas’s tower.

At least he won’t go hungry if they forget about him.

This morning, Meg collected him long before Cas woke up. She was smiling at him like the smuggest piece of shit witch Dean had ever seen. Out of spite, he had forced himself not to acknowledge how she’d gone back on their deal. Instead, he’d offered her the shield in exchange for one more night. Rufus _did_ say that he should use it as he sees fit. Meg had hesitated at first, but she still took it before putting locking him up in the kitchen.

It was past midday when Abaddon came in and put him to work peeling potatoes. Dean doesn’t mind, though. At least now he has something to keep his hands busy. His mind has been wandering all day, trying to think of ways to throw water on the witches, or shove them off the ramparts, or use their own potions against them. If they were the ones sleeping all night, they wouldn’t notice him sneaking off with all the princes.

But leaving Abaddon and Meg alive poses one problem. They would still have their magic. What would stop them from coming after Cas and his brothers again? No. Dean needs to deal with the witches once and for all. They’ve threatened the kingdom he calls his home and made his friend their prisoner. There’s no way he’s going to let them get away with this or give them the chance to pull their shit again. Not to Cas, not to his brothers, and not to anyone else ever again.

The only issue now is _how_.

It occurs to Dean halfway through the morning that he needs to find a way to contact the brothers. If Meg is going to give Cas a potion again tonight, then Dean needs to notify him somehow that he’s here. But _how_ is the question. It always comes back to _how_ and it’s driving Dean crazy. Thankfully, by the time dinner comes around, he has an answer.

After observing the habits of the floating dishware habits through breakfast and lunch, the idea hits him in the middle of his own dinner meal. It’s stew, yet again, and he wonders if that’s all the witches know how to make. Either way, the process is still the same. Hopefully, the one that came multiple times yesterday will be just as hungry today.

Dean digs through his belongings for any scrap of paper he has. He ends up using a corner of his map for it, but that’s good enough. With his hunting knife set out on the table, Dean writes a short but sweet message on the paper scrap using the end of a stick he charred in the cooking fire. With that done, he clears the bread table of all but one loaf. The rest he puts in an empty potato sack he finds in the corner. If his plan works, he’ll put them back before Meg or Abaddon shows up.

Using his knife, Dean carves out a wedged section of the last loaf of bread. He stuffs the folded paper into the hole and covers it with part of the wedge again. To be safe, he finds some honey in the cupboards and drizzles it over the lines of the wedge, hoping that will be enough to seal it in place long enough for what he needs this to do. It’s no message in a bottle, but it will be enough to let anyone who wants seconds know that he’s here.

After that, Dean has nothing but to wait. As luck would have it, that’s not too long. It can’t be more than a few minutes before one of the bowls comes floating back into the kitchen. The first stop it makes is at the stove, where it gets refilled. Next it passes over the bread table. Dean holds his breath as the only loaf left – his message – floats off the table. It heads out with the bowl and that’s the last he sees of it.

“Please let that get to someone who can tell Cas I’m here.” Dean lets his prayer out on a sigh.

* * *

 

Another night comes and goes with Cas sleeping soundly before Dean is shown to his room. Dean still doesn’t acknowledge Meg’s trick when she lets him out in the morning with a bright smile. “Did you and Castiel sleep well?”

“As good as one can sleep.” He shrugs and looks down at his hands.

This morning he didn’t bother putting the sheath back on his belt. Dean knew what he’d be using her for today. Though he wishes he didn’t have to, he holds the sword out to Meg. “One more night. There’s history in this sword. It has to be of some value to you, right?”

Meg rolls her eyes, more amused than annoyed. “How long are you going to play this game, you fool boy? I’m not going to let him talk to you, no matter how much you pay me for it.”

“Just one more night. This is all I have left to bargain with.” Dean pushes the sheathed sword into her hands. “Please. I just want to stay with Cas for one more night.” As true as that is, this should also give him enough time.

She takes the sword, giving him a narrowed eyed stare in return. “Oh, don’t tell me. Eight months together and you’ve gone and _fallen_ for my dear husband-to-be!” Meg throws her head back with a laugh and it irks Dean, pricking at him like a hundred sewing needles.

It’s not that Dean has _fallen_ for Cas, but – Well, he might just be in the process of it. Or, at least he was by the eight month mark. Those growing feelings for Cas played a large part of why he wanted to see his real form. Confirming that Cas was human would have validated them in a way. It would have made it okay to have them. It’s not like Dean could just go ahead and fall for a _bear_ – or whatever else he thought Cas might have been

“Well now I’m curious.” Meg giggles, her eyes practically dancing with delight. She knows she hit the nail on the head with that jab. “I want to see what you’re going to do when you’ve run out of bargaining chips. What are you going to do when I won’t let you see him anymore?”

The pommel of the sword catches him under the chin and Meg uses it to lift his face. “Would you like to be a guest at our wedding? He’s not going to be able to deny me forever. Mother says if he doesn’t agree to do it, she’s going to start killing off his brothers.”

With another laugh, she steps away, gesturing for him to follow. “It’s just an empty threat though. If she kills them off, she’s not going to be able to marry one herself. And she’s been thinking of offering Aunt Rowena one of them too. It’s only right that we keep them all in the family, you know.”

A sick, angry burn is filling Dean’s belly. He can feel it crawling up into his throat. Meg’s talking about Cas and his brothers like they’re property – like their something the witches _own_. It’s disgusting and his hands are twitching. It would be _so easy_ to throw her over the rampart right now. She’d fall into the ocean and melt away like the monster she is. It wouldn’t take too much to break down the door to Cas’s tower, and he’d be awake soon enough, would he?

No, but that still leaves Abaddon. And she’d probably be _furious_ if he killed her daughter. Dean takes a deep breath and forces his expression to remain neutral. There is a time and place for everything, and he’ll have his chance to take care of the witches eventually. It just means that he has to suffer through her inane chatter until the kitchens.

If he could survive yesterday, then he’ll make it through today too.

* * *

 

“Goddammit.” Dean hisses under his breath.

He had sent a few more bread messages this evening again, but it doesn’t look like it did him any good. Cas is in bed again when Dean climbs through the trapdoor. He had been hoping that _somehow_ Cas would have gotten notice that he was here. That he would have figured out not to drink the ale Meg brought him tonight.

Dean can feel a prickling behind his eyes. He blinks the feeling away while kicking off his shoes. This was his last hope. He has no idea what he’s going to do in the morning. There’s nothing left to barter with besides a handful of coin. He could give it a try, but there’s no guarantee that it’s going to work. The apple, the shield, and the sword were all unique. Coins are nothing new. The witches probably have coffers full of it somewhere in their castle.

“I’m sorry, Cas.” Even though they won’t wake him, Dean still whispers the words as he gets into bed. “I got all the way here to save you, and I’m stuck. I don’t know what else to do.”

It’s a spur of the moment idea, but what the hell. Might as well do it while he still has the chance. He doesn’t think twice about leaning down and pressing a kiss to Cas’s forehead when he runs his hand through his hair. That’s become a nightly ritual now. Even though it’s only been a few nights that he’s done it, Dean’s going to miss it.

“I’m all out of ideas, Cas. I’m sorry.”

“Then why don’t you try asking me if I have any?”

He hisses a swear and jerks back in surprise. The fire in the grate gives just enough light to see the way Cas’s mouth curves in a mischievous grin. It’s the first time Dean has actually seen it like this. When he was a bear, Cas would get this look in his eyes when he was doing something playful. Dean likes being able to see the _whole_ expression – even if most of it is still in Cas’s eyes.

“You son of a bitch!”

“I assure you, my mother was _not_ a female dog.” Cas sits up slowly, his smile growing. He reaches out to cup Dean’s cheek. “But all that aside, you’re _here_.” His other hand comes up to bracket the other side of Dean's face. “You actually came.”

Any irritation Dean felt at Cas lying that he was awake melts away in an instant. He leans into the touch, not even stopping to wonder when it was he got so comfortable with Cas touching him like this. “I told you I would, didn't I?"

"Thank you." Cas breeches their personal spaces by leaning forward and resting their foreheads together. "Thank _you_." His voice shakes a little and it makes Dean's heart twist. Fuck it. Cas has been through a hell of alot all because of Dean. The least he could do right now is give him a goddamn hug.

As soon as he's got his arms wrapped around him, Cas sags into him with a soft sigh. He hugs Dean back, fingers curling in his shirt tightly. "I thought I'd never see you again."

"Felt like that a bit, yeah." Dean presses his face into  Cas's shoulder and lets himself _really_ relax for the first time in what feels like a long time. He doesn't want to remember about every time he thought this whole quest was going to be futile.

"I thought my mind was playing tricks on me." Cas talks straight into Dean's shoulder, muffling the words. "Today and yesterday I woke up and it felt like you had been here. Why didn't you leave me a message in the room? Leave a book out with a note written in it, or put a paper in my hand? Something to let me know you were here?"

Dean laughs and shakes his head. "I thought about it, but then I realized if Meg was going to knock you out every fucking night, then she probably had some kind of contingency plan for that too. I had to be _sneaky_ about this shit."

"Sneaky like putting a note in Gabriel's food? He almost ate it!" Cas laughs too and the sound of it renews Dean's resolve to save him. That's something he wants to hear _way_ more often. "How did you know that we're allowed to see our brothers if we ask to?"

"I didn't." He shrugs and pulls back from the hug, giving Cas a sheepish grin. "That was kind of a last ditch effort. But hey! It worked, didn't it? I still have no idea how to get you out of here, though." His grin falls into a frown and he looks down at his lap. Dean _hates_ feeling like a failure, but that's all he feels like right now. Even with the success of his plan from yesterday's dinner.

It must be his lucky day, because Dean gets to hear that laugh again. "How lucky for you that I _do_ have a plan to defeat Meg and Abaddon." Cas graces him with that wide, gummy grin again. If only there was more light in the room so Dean could see it in proper detail. "But you can find that out in the morning."

With no notice, Cas flops back against the pillows with a happy sigh. He reaches over and pats the pillow next to him. "Lie down with me, Dean, and tell me about the adventures you've had travelling here. I it couldn't have been an easy trip for you."

Dean stretches out under the blankets next to him. "I don't know what kind of _adventures_ you think I might've had." He laughs as Cas turns on his side to face him – though the laugh catches in his throat when Cas rests a hand on his chest. Cas places it over his heart and curls his fingers in Dean's shirt again. Shit. He's definitely going to notice how that small gesture makes Dean's heart beat a little harder – a little faster.

"I'm sorry if I'm touching you too much." It's almost as if Cas can read his mind. "I'm still having trouble accepting that this isn't a dream. If I let go of you, I'm afraid you're going to disappear on me."

"I'm not going anywhere, Cas." He steels himself to keep his own hand from shaking as he places it over Cas's. "I'm right here and I'm not going home unless you're coming with me." Dean gives his hand a good squeeze, letting that little gesture add weight to his words.

Silence reigns between them for a few moments, but it's a warm one. Cas ends it by wiggling closer – close enough that Dean can feel the heat of him through his clothing. "Thank you, Dean. Now stop procrastinating. I came here because of Abaddon's magic. Tell me how _you_ got here?"

"Well, it was pretty boring right up until I met Ellen." Dean closes his eyes and launches into his story.

It's a bit weird to be telling this to Cas when he's so close, but he really doesn't mind it, actually. The more they got to know each other over their last few months together, Dean did get more familiar with touching Cas – but that was while he was a bear. Back then it was second nature for him to sit down and lean against Cas's side. When they were out in the woods or at the flower field, Dean used him as opposed to sitting with his back against a tree. It was nice and this – well, this is nice too.

And he can't help but wonder if this is something that he should let himself get used to or not. Are they going to be sharing a bed again at any point in the future? Is that something he would want? Dean doesn't have an answer to that just yet – but he _has_ gotten used to having someone else sleep next to him. He'll have to examine his feelings about that _after_ he saves the princes.

* * *

 

The look on Meg's face when she opens the door to find Dean _and_ Cas standing together on the other side makes the last few days all worthwhile. She goes a few shades of red as she looks between them. Dean can't help grinning. Oh, but it feels _so good_ to have outsmarted her.

"Good morning, Meg." Cas's voice keeps steady, though the hand he has on Dean's shoulder is holding it with a vice-like grip. "I would like to speak with you and your mother, if you don't mind giving me an audience, that is."

Dean raises an eyebrow at the outrage that crosses her face. "Are you going to deny a request of your husband-to-be? If you're going to be so rigid about something as simple as a _talk_ , well, that's going to make things rough in the future for you two, don't you think?"

His smile slips slightly when he can feel the pressure of her magic gathering around his feet. Cas's grip tightens further and he steps forward to stand between Dean and Meg. "If you _dare_ to hurt him or my brothers, I'm going to bite my tongue here and now and leave you with no one to marry."

"You're playing _dirty_ , Castiel." Meg's upper lip curls back in a sneer, but the pressure dissipates and Dean breathes a little easier.

"You started it, my dear."

She huffs at them and turns on her heel, stalking off across the rampart. Cas's hand slides from Dean's shoulder, travelling along his arm until their hands are slotted together. Having Cas's warm palm pressing against his own makes it hard for Dean to breathe again. He stumbles slightly when Cas pulls him after him, leading him through the castle at Meg's heels.

They enter a wing of the castle that Dean hasn't been in before. Dean tries to fit it into his mental map, but Cas's hold on his hand is _really_ distracting – right up until they reach Abaddon's spell room, or whatever the hell this room is supposed to be. In the center of it is a cauldron big enough to fit a few people inside. Part of it is recessed in the floor, making its brim come to hip height. From what Dean can tell, it's currently just full of water. The walls are covered in shelving filled with books and jars and vials and boxes of things Dean does _not_ want to examine any more than he has to.

There are tables set up in a broken circle around the cauldron. Some have smaller cauldrons, others are covered in open books, or have glass bottles rigged up with tubes and items that Dean has no words for. He's never seen anything like it, but Abaddon seems plenty comfortable among them. Directly opposite the door and on the other side of the cauldron is a raised pedestal. On it is the thickest book Dean has ever seen, and the first he's ever encountered that has a faint _glow_ to it.

Abaddon is standing over that very book and she looks up from its pages with a frown. "What's going on here?" She narrows her eyes when they fall on Cas. "What are _you_ doing awake and out of your tower?"

"He didn't drink the ale last night." Meg hisses, stomping across the room to stand next to her mother. "They got to actually _talk_ and now Castiel wants to talk to _you_."

The book moves without Abaddon touching it, closing itself with an ominous boom. "And what, exactly, does our dear prince want to _talk_ to me about, I wonder?" Her voice carries a dangerous edge to it and it sends a shiver through Dean's bones.

Cas is a trooper through all of this. He doesn't once show that he's scared in the slightest. Instead, he holds his head high and keeps his voice steady. "I've come to a decision on the topic of my future regarding _marriage_."

Abaddon pointedly looks to where Cas is still firmly holding onto Dean's hand. "Now this I've got to hear." How she manages to sound equal parts amused _and_ angry beyond all reasons is something Dean should applaud. Not even his own mother can manage something like that.

"If I'm going to marry anyone, they must be able to accomplish one task for me." Cas lets go of Dean's hand and he mourns the loss of his touch immediately. This room feels _dangerous_ and holding Cas's hand gave him a measure of comfort.

Meg leans forward eagerly, eyes bright. "And what's that going to be?"

To everyone's surprise, Cas pulls his nightshirt over his head. It leaves him standing there in nothing but his underwear. Unlike Dean, he didn't go to bed in a tunic and breeches last night. Cas has the biggest, must triumphant smile on his face as he holds the nightshirt out to the witches. "I'll marry whoever manages to _wash_ the tallow from my collar _without_ the use of magic."

Abaddon and Meg aren't the only ones whose jaws drop with that statement. At first, Dean thinks he's joking, but then it clicks. Cas is a goddamn _genius_. To wash tallow from clothing, one only needs some _water_. And water just so happens to be the one thing in the world that a _witch_ can't touch. Holy shit, Dean might just kiss him for this. He had the answer to their troubles all along – and the bastard waited until _now_ to tell him about it.

Meg shares a completely mystified look with Abaddon before it turns dark. Her glare flicks back to Cas. "You have got to be _joking_."

"Do I look like I'm joking?" Cas tilts his head and his smile turns devious. "Would you like me to repeat myself? I swear upon my honour and my family name that I will wed the one who washes the tallow from my shirt without using magic. Or is that something you won't lower yourself to doing?"

"Mother!" Meg grabs Abaddon's arm and gives her a good shake. "Mother, that's not _fair_. I _can't_ wash his clothing without my magic!"

This upset bolsters Dean's courage quite a bit and he steps forward. He clears his throat and manages not to flinch when two dark glares are turned on him. "If his highness doesn't mind, I'd like to try my hand at washing that for you."

"You can't marry him!" Meg is almost shouting now. She lifts her skirts and comes storming around the cauldron. "He's _my_ fiancée!"

"I never agreed to that."

Cas continues to smile serenely, completely pleased with himself, even as Meg stops in front of him nose to nose. "He's a _man_. Your kingdom won't accept your marrying a _man_ – and a peasant at that!"

"They'll accept it more than my marriage to a _witch_." He fires back without hesitation. "And you seem to forget that I have _four_ older brothers. All of whom would be happy to take the throne. In fact, I believe Michael is the next in line. It was _you_ and your _mother_ who decided that whichever of us marries first would be the king."

Dean can feel heat building in his face. Cas probably doesn’t mean that he’s going to _actually_ marry him, but the fact that he’s hinting at it is pretty embarrassing. Marriage is a pretty big step up from where they’re at now. And, to start, he doesn’t even know _where_ they stand right now. A kiss on the forehead, some light cuddling, and hand holding doesn’t exactly mean that they’re anything more than friends.

Besides, it’s not like he really knows what he wants here. Dean has his main goal of saving Cas and his brothers. Secondary goal is making sure their kingdom – the one his _family_ lives in – is alright. After that, it’s anybody’s game. Except – well, okay. _Maybe_ Dean would like to keep Cas in his life. Towards the end of their time together, before he fucked it up, he was really starting to enjoy spending time with Cas. It’s not like he wants that to be _over_ and have them go their separate ways when all of this is said and done.

Okay, fuck it. Dean’s not going to pay attention to that whole _marriage_ thing right now. Save Cas. That’s the plan. And if that involves doing his damn laundry, then that’s what he’s going to fucking do. He clears his throat loudly, interrupting whatever whining Meg is in the middle of.

When Cas turns his attention to him, Dean holds his hand out. "I may be a _man_ , but I'd like to try my hand at giving your shirt a good wash. If that pleases his highness?" Dean’s feeling particularly confident knowing now that Meg isn’t going to be able to do _shit_ about this. So, what the hell! He turns his tone teasing and even throws in a little bow while he’s at it.

Without a word, but with the biggest damn smile ever, Cas hands the shirt over to him. Dean returns his smile before turning to Abaddon. "Do you mind if I use your cauldron for this?"

"I _refuse_." She hisses, her face almost as red as her hair. “Castiel, you _will_ marry my daughter. That was our deal and you will _not_ break it.”

“We had no _deal_.” Cas reminds her, voice soft and quiet but with the surety of steel. “All we had were _your_ demands. I agreed to nothing.” He continues with that serene smile, like he’s not risking getting magic-ed right off the face of the Earth right now. “I feel that I’ve made a very reasonable offer. And I’m sure that Dean would gladly allow a lady go first at washing my shirt.”

A shade of terror passes over Meg’s face and she stares at the water filling the cauldron. Would putting her hands in it make just them melt, or would her whole body just collapse into nothingness? Dean would ask, but he’s pretty sure they _would_ smite him with their magic if he thought to open his mouth right now. It’s probably for the best that he keep it shut and wait to see what should be done next.

When no one makes a move, Dean shrugs and figures it’s his turn. He crosses the room to the cauldron and takes a peek inside. Sure enough, it just looks like regular water to him. The cauldron is dark and he can’t see the bottom, but he’s pretty sure there’s nothing lurking in there ready to pull him in. He hesitates slightly when Abaddon comes around the cauldron to stand on his left. That’s when he notices Meg on his right. Is he really going to have an audience for this?

Meg grinds her teeth the whole time Dean has his hands in the water, rubbing the fabric together to get the tallow out. He doesn’t have anything to beat it with, but this should be enough. Cas never really specified how clean it should be. As long as the hardened tallow is gone, that should be okay, right? There might be some little dark spots where they had been, but there’s nothing he can do about the stains since Cas left them for so long. Nothing short of a good soaking in lye would fix that.

When he lifts it out of the water to check his handiwork, Abaddon and Meg both take a step back. Clearly they don’t want to risk getting flicked by any stray drops of water. Dean grins and looks over his shoulder. “How does that look, your highness?”

Cas has moved to stand oddly close to Abaddon. He moves in closer, leaving her the choice of stepping closer to the cauldron again or getting out of his way entirely. She doesn’t budge and instead just leans away from him. Abaddon doesn’t even move when Cas puts a hand on her shoulder to support him as he leans in more so he can squint at the shirt. It’s a really weird thing to do, but Dean has a pretty good idea of what Cas is doing.

Water is a witch’s undoing right? By that logic, it would seriously _suck_ if one were to – say – take a _bath_ in their cauldron. Right?

“From where I’m standing, it looks like I’m going to have a husband.” Cas smiles brightly at Dean before looking at Abaddon. He gives her arm a good squeeze. “I’m sorry, Abaddon. It looks like I _won’t_ be marrying your daughter after all.”

Outrage crosses her face in the split second before Cas gives her a good hard _shove_. His arm snaps out, throwing her off balance and she staggers back into the cauldron. Cas is on her in a heartbeat, not wasting any time with grabbing her by the hips and tilting her right over the edge. It happens in the blink of an eye. Abaddon’s scream of surprise is short lived, cut off by the water as she goes under.

“Mothe-!”

Meg’s shout is ended early too, this time by a face full of wet shirt – and then she starts screaming. Dean doesn’t wait for her to claw the shirt off. He doesn’t want to see what’s happening underneath. Instead, he grabs her by the waist and heaves her into the frothing contents of the cauldron. Abaddon hasn’t come up yet and he doesn’t think that she will. But just to be safe, the moment Meg hits the water Dean turns and runs. He grabs Cas’s arm and drags him along too.

Dean slams the door behind them and leans against it, waiting for something – _anything_ – to happen. He isn’t disappointed. Though he’s never seen one before, Dean has heard stories about the big bang sound that a firework makes. If it’s enough to make the door bounce against his back and leave him deaf for a few seconds, then a firework must be something like whatever happened on the other side of the door.

Cas shares a surprised look with him. “I wasn’t aware they _exploded_ if they got wet.”

“Same.” He gives Cas a shaky grin. “I was told that all they’d do is melt.”

“Then why did we run out here?”

That question has many answers and Dean goes for the best one. “I didn’t want to stick around just in case that it wasn’t true, y’know? Man, they would’ve been _pissed_.” He tries laughing to lighten the mood, but it comes out just as shaky as his smile. “I dunno about you, but I don’t really want to open this door and see what happened on the other side. Do you?”

“Not particularly.” Cas is a lot more steady with his smile, and his hand isn’t shaking when he finds Dean’s hand again and gives it a squeeze. “If they survived and were going to kill us, I believe they would have done so by now.”

“Hell yeah!” Dean’s next laugh comes easier and he squeezes Cas’s hand back just as hard. This is it! They did it! Abaddon and Meg are gone for good! He throws his head back against the door and laughs until his throat hurts. Cas has a few good chuckles of his own, but he’s more smiles than anything else.

When the giddy rush of a euphoric victory has subsided, Dean finally steps away from the door and starts up the hall. Cas falls into step next to him, never once letting go of Dean’s hand. Honestly, he doesn’t mind. It’s pretty nice, actually. Nice enough that Dean isn’t going to mention it and make things _awkward_. Speaking of awkward…

“So, should we get you a change of clothes before we find your brothers?”

“That might be a good plan.” Cas hums under his breath and brings them to a stop just before they head out into the main hall again. “But there is one thing I would like to do first.”

Dean turns to face him, eyebrow raised. “Like what? Breakfast?” That’s not really fair to his brothers to stay locked up while they get something to eat, but hey, if Cas is hungry then who is Dean to tell him to wait? He’s a bit peckish himself, actually.

Of all the things Cas could have said – could have _done_ – right then, Dean really wasn’t expecting a kiss to be on the top of the list. But, sure enough, that’s exactly what Cas does. He steps in close and Dean has enough time to register that Cas’s other hand cups his cheek before there are soft lips pressed against his own.

Okay. So. _Wow_.

If holding hands was nice, then this is – this is actually _really_ nice? Dean’s thoughts fizzle out like a dying spark and he doesn’t stop it. He lets his body take control on this one and it makes the right decision. His eyes slide closed and he leans into the kiss. It’s warm and gentle and _good_. It’s exactly what he would expect from Cas – not that he ever actually thought this was a thing they would ever do together. But, yeah, he could definitely see them doing this more in the future.

When Cas steps back again, his smile is just that little bit brighter. “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t wait any longer to do that.”

Dean doesn’t have actually words to say to that. He makes a kind of _huh_ noise, but without the question mark after it. Cas’s still hasn’t dropped his hand and he rubs his thumb over Dean’s cheek. “Was that alright? I realize now that I should have asked you prior to doing that.”

“It –” He swallows hard, hoping that might get his tongue and words to work correctly again. “It was fine.” More than fine. In fact, dare he say, Cas should totally do it again some time very soon. “I guess – uh – you weren’t kidding about that whole husband thing, huh?”

Cas’s smile softens and he takes Dean’s other hand, bringing them both to his lips. “Unlike our dearly departed witches, _I_ will not force you into anything you don’t desire with all your heart.” He presses a kiss to the back of Dean’s fingers. “But I most certainly would not be opposed to such a future with you. If you would have me, that is.”

There should be a thousand and one reasons why a _prince_ shouldn’t pursue any kind of future with a _peasant_. But – Dean really doesn’t want to tell him otherwise right now. He shuffles on his feet and looks down at their hands. “We could – uh – see, maybe, if that’s where things go? I mean, I’m not _opposed_ to trying things out or –”

With a finger to his lips, Cas brings all that awkward fumbling to a stop. “I understand.” He gets that devious little smile again and it makes Dean’s heart skip a beat. “I hope you’re prepared to be courted by a prince. Now that you’ve saved me and my family, I’m even more determined to make you mine.”

Hold on a second. What? “ _More_?” Does that mean Cas was already planning on all this _before_ Dean got here? How long has he been thinking that? Before Dean fucked everything up or after?

Cas only smiles at him before walking away, leading him by his hand again. “We can discuss further about that later. Right now, I believe clothing is in order? And then releasing my brothers.”

“And after that?”

“There are stables in the center courtyard, though you haven’t been there yet, have you?” He glances back at Dean and gives his hand a little tug, drawing him even next to him. “I think we should take every piece of gold and jewels they have hidden away in their dungeons, saddle up every horse we can find, and head home. Don’t you think?”

That sounds like a really good plan. With her death, Abaddon’s magic has probably dissipated or will fade pretty soon. Meaning that someone back home is going to notice pretty quick that the royal family is missing. The sooner they head home the better. Then his split of the treasures in the castle – if he gets any – will get to go straight to his family and the farm they’re still in the process of building. He can’t wait to see them again and see how far they've come.

Oh, shit. Wait a second. His _family_. He forgot all about them in the heat of victory. Dean comes to a sudden stop both mentally and physically at the thought of them.

“Something the matter, Dean?”

“Yeah.” Dean looks at Cas, heat starting to fill his face. “My _family_.”

Cas frowns and tilts his head. “Is something wrong with them?”

“No.” He shakes his head and lifts their hands between them. “How am I going to explain _this_?”

Understanding slips into Cas’s eyes and his frown quickly turns into a smile. “I’ll explain it to them.” The gleam in his eyes goes mischievous again and he leans in. “How large of a dowry do you think they’ll want for your hand in marriage?”

“You’re awfully confident in yourself there, Cas.” And it’s all the confidence that Dean is lacking. What if his parents don’t like the idea? The whole prince thing is a winner, sure, but Cas is a _man_. That’s not really a widely accepted thing in any kingdom currently.

“I’m _free_ and heading home for the first time in years, Dean.” Cas gets an almost dreamy look on his face and he sighs happily. “Right now, I feel like I could do anything. Including caring for you and your family for the rest of your lives – even if they reject my courting request.”

Dean flushes at the declaration. That sounds pretty nice, and it’s not at all the kind of reward he was expecting for carrying this out. All he was doing was paying off a debt for fucking things up. Well, and saving a friend. The only thing left for him to do is return home with Cas, leaving this castle far behind.

He ducks his head and starts walking again. This time it’s his turn to pull Cas along too. “Well, you can’t do any of that until we get home first.” Dean squeezes his hand tightly. “And our first stop should be your mother’s bees.”

That makes Cas light up with a truly radiant smile – almost childlike in his delight. Dean never thought _this_ is where he would end up when he agreed to Cas’s deal all those months ago. But – yeah. That smile alone really makes everything all worthwhile. He’s happy this is where his path led, and he can’t wait to see where it’s going to go next. If he’s lucky, Cas will still be at his side for it.

**THE END**


End file.
